•  ,  :: 


• 


The  Dugdale  Millions 

A  NOVEL 

By  BARCLAY  NORTH,  (Wm.  c.  Hudson), 
author  of '"  The  Diamond  Button"  "  Whose 
Was  It"  "  Vivier  of  Vivier,  Longman  & 
Co.,"  "On  the  Rack,"  "The  Man  With  a 
Thumb"  "520  Per  Cent."  etc.  .  .  . 


NEW       YORK       AND       CONDON 
STREET  &  SMITH,    PUBLISHERS. 


Ps 


Copyright,  1891, 
By  OASSELL  PUBLISHING  GO. 


Copyright,  1900, 
By  STREET  &  SMITH 


All  Rights  Reserved 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I.  A  PERPLEXING  COMMISSION,     .       .       .       .  I 

II.  A  REVELATION, 10 

III.  THE  FIRST  STEP,     ......  21 

IV.  A  GOOD  FRIEND,          .        .        »        .        .  32 
V.  SIGNOR  BARBERINI,          .....  43 

VI.  A  TALE  AND  A  DISCOVERY,          ...  54 

VII.  DISQUIETING  NEWS 65 

VIII.  COUNTERPLOTS,    .....*  72 

IX.  A  FATEFUL  ARRIVAL,      .....  79 

X.  A  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN,         ....  91 

XI.  PLAYING  THE  KNAVE,      .....  102 

XII.  A  PERVERSE  MAIDEN,          ....  112 

XIII.  THE  RED  SHAWL, 121 

XIV.  ORTON  PIERSON,                   .        .        .       •  131 
XV.  CONFLICTING  INTERESTS,         .       .       »       .141 

XVI.  DICK'S  PROGRESS,        ....        *  153 

XVII.  A  Box  AND  ITS  CONTENTS,      .       .       •       .163 

XVIII.  THE  DUGDALE  HEIR,           .        •       »       .  170 


V  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

XIX.  REBELLIOUS  INDEPENDENCE,    .       ,       .       .  179 

XX.  DICK'S  DISCOVERY, 190 

XXI.  THE  TIN  Box,  .......  201 

XXII.  MRS.  STANTON'S  INTRIGUE,         .        .       .  210 

XXIII.  A  BURGLARY, 222 

XXIV.  PUZZLED  CONSPIRATORS,      ....  233 
XXV.  COMPLICATIONS,       .        .        .        •       .         .  239 

XXVI.  A  BURST  OF  SUNSHINE,         ....  252 

XXVII.  IN  IMMINENT  PERIL 264 

XXVIII.  THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE,       .        .        .  277 

XXIX.  THE  DECISIVE  BLOW, 284 

XXX.  HAROLD'S  PROOF,        .....  295 

XXXI.  DETECTED  AND  CAPTURED,      .       •       •       .  307 


THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A    PERPLEXING   COMMISSION. 

"MR.  HETLOW  has  asked  twice  for  you,  Mr. 
Mason." 

These  words  were  respectfully  addressed  by  a  lad  to 
a  young  man  who  had  just  entered  the  counting-room 
of  Hetlow,  Altmount  &  Co.,  in  Cliff  Street. 

The  young  man  stopped  short  in  astonishment. 

"Mr.  Hetlow!"  he  repeated  incredulously.  "At 
this  hour?" 

"He  has  been  in  his  room  since  before  nine 
o'clock,"  replied  the  young  lad,  as  if  in  confirmation  of 
his  statement. 

The  color  mounted  slightly  to  the  cheeks  of  Mason, 
who  was  widely  known  as  "  Dick,"  and,  also,  to  many 
who  did  not  presume  to  call  him  such  when  talking 
with  him.  He  threw  off  his  light  overcoat,  for  it  was 
when  autumn  had  just  fallen  upon  the  year,  and 
handed  it  to  the  young  lad  standing  respectfully 
beside  him. 

As  he  walked  to  his  own  desk  he  muttered: 

"Now  what  is  the  meaning  of  this?" 

Standing  irresolutely  beside  his  chair  for  a  moment, 
he  turned  sharply  with  an  air  of  determination,  and 
passed  into  the  corridor  leading  to  the  room  occupied 
by  the  head  of  the  great  concern. 


2  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Once  out  of  sight  of  the  clerks,  all  of  whom  he  knew 
were  watching  him  covertly,  he  stopped  and  bent  his 
head  in  deep  thought.  After  a  brief  moment  rousing 
himself,  he  said  aloud  in  a  low  tone. 

"He  has  come  to  know  that  I  went  up  last  night  to 
that  garden  party  at  Farmington.  Well,  even  so! 
Suppose  his  charming  daughter  was  stopping  at  the 
Negleys' !  He  cannot  expect  to  control  the  invita 
tions  sent  out  by  the  people  his  daughter  visits.  He 
can  hardly  have  learned  that  ray  invitation  was  due  to 
the  kindly  offices  of  the  charming  Bessie.  Perhaps 
he  has  come  to  know  that  I  spent  an  hour  with  that 
sweet  girl  behind  the  ferns  in  the  greenery.  If  he  has, 
someone  stayed  up  all  night  to  inform  him.  Well, 
here  goes  for  a  tussle  with  the  Tycoon.  There  will  be 
a  row,  I  suppose." 

He  hurried  along  the  corridor,  at  the  end  of  which 
there  was  a  door  on  which  there  was  a  silver  plate, 
bearing  the  name  of  the  head  of  the  concern. 

He  opened  it  without  knocking,  and  stepped  in, 
with  the  easy  assurance  of  one  who  knew  he  had  the 
entr&e. 

The  room  was  sumptuously  furnished  for  a  business 
office.  The  carpet  on  the  floor  was  so  thick  as  to 
deaden  all  footfalls;  easy-chairs  of  stuffed  leather 
abounded;  on  the  walls  were  oil  paintings  and  about 
the  room  rare  bits  of  china  and  valuable  bronzes.  In 
one  corner,  at  a  desk,  so  placed  that  the  best  light  fell 
upon  it,  was  sitting  an  impressive-looking  old  gentle 
man,  portly,  gray-headed,  dignified  in  demeanor. 

"You  wished  to  see  me,  I  understand,"  said  Dick, 
as  he  approached  the  desk,  leaning  his  left  elbow  on 
the  top,  in  an  easy  manner. 

Mr.  Hetlow  looked  up  from  the  papers  over  which 
he  was  poring,  with  a  frown  on  his  brow,  which  faded 
away  as  he  looked  upon  the  pleasant  picture  of  youth 
and  manly  beauty  Dick  presented,  braced  as  he  was 
for  the  contest  he  anticipated. 


A  PERPLEXING  COMMISSION.  3 

•Tasked  twice  for  you,"  he  said  at  length,  "and 
was  told  you  were  not  yet  come." 

"No,"  replied  Dick  carelessly,  "I  ran  out  of  town  a 
short  distance  last  night.  One  train  to  return  by  was 
much  too  early,  the  other  a  little  too  late.  I  took  the 
one  a  little  too  late." 

Apparently  not  heeding  the  answer,  the  old  mer 
chant  laid  the  papers  away  from  his  hand  and  pushed 
back  his  chair. 

"Sit  down,  Mason,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  seat.  "  I 
have  a  most  delicate  matter  to  speak  to  you  about." 

"It's  coming,"  said  Dick  in  an  underbreath,  as  he 
sat  down. 

"You  have  been  connected  with  this  house  a  num 
ber  of  years,  and  I  and  my  partners  appreciate  your 
abilities  and  know  we  can  trust  you." 

"I  wonder  who  the  deuce  told  him,"  muttered  Dick. 

"And  I  feel,"  continued  the  old  merchant,  "that 
the  trust  and  confidence  reposed  in  you  justifies  me 
in  expecting  a  return  from  you  in  a  matter  which  is 
without  the  province  of  your  duties  here." 

Dick  replied  with  a  bow,  saying  to  himself,  "I'd 
give  half  a  year's  salary  to  know  who  informed  him." 

"I  have  received  a  letter  which  greatly  annoys  me 
—so  perplexing  that  I  hesitate  as  to  the  course  I 
should  pursue." 

"I  could  suggest  a  course  satisfactory  to  myself," 
muttered  Dick. 

"The  matter  comes  close  home  to  me  because  it 
affects  my  daughter  Bessie.  She  is  all  I  have  left, 
since  her  mother  died,  and  this  thing  will  affect  her 
life  very  much." 

"Naturally,"  said  Dick  aloud,  adding  to  himself, 
"whether  she  is  Mrs.  Mason  or  Mrs.  Somebody  Else 
naturally  will." 

The  merchant  looked  into  Dick's  face  quickly  as 
he  inquired:  "Why,  naturally?  You  do  not  know 
what  it  is  yet." 


4  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

The  young  man  pulled  himself  together  with  a  start. 
"The  remark  was  made  at  random.  Please  go  on, 
sir." 

Mr.  Hetlow  continued  his  gaze  upon  the  young  man 
a  moment  or  two,  as  if  it  pleased  him  to  look  upon  the 
bright,  open  face,  and  then  went  on,  plunging  abruptly 
into  his  tale,  to  Dick's  manifest  surprise. 

"Samuel  Dugdale  died  six  months  ago  in  England, 
a  very  old  man,  leaving  a  vast  estate,  the  income  01 
which  is  more  than  two  hundred  thousand  pounds, 
He  married  in  middle  life  and  his  wife  bore  him  a  son 
and  daughter,  dying  shortly  after.  Ten  years  before 
his  death  his  daughter,  never  having  married,  died,  leav 
ing  as  his  sole  relatives  his  son  and  a  sister.  The  son 
and  the  father  did  not  agree.  The  former  was  bent 
on  his  pleasures,  while  the  father  desired  him  to  main 
tain  the  traditions  of  the  house  and  bear  his  part  in 
the  business,  which  had  descended  from  father  to  son 
for  more  than  two  centuries.  Finally  the  son  added 
to  his  refusal  to  enter  the  business  house  the  marrying 
of  a  public  dancer.  Thereupon  the  father  cast  him 
off,  refusing  to  provide  for  him  in  any  way.  In  a 
short  time  the  son  and  his  wife  dropped  out  of  sight. 
For  a  number  of  years  nothing  was  heard  from  him, 
when  a  letter,  dated  from  New  York,  was  received  by 
the  elder  Dugdale  begging  assistance,  setting  forth  that 
he  was  wretchedly  poor;  that  his  wife  was  dead  and, 
as  he  feared,  from  want  and  exposure ;  that  he  was 
left  with  a  child — a  boy — then  two  years  old.  At  first, 
stern  and  unyielding,  old  Samuel  Dugdale  would  not 
consider  the  letter,  but  subsequently  thinking  that  the 
woman  who  had  been  the  bar  to  his  son's  reformation 
was  dead,  that  the  son  had  been  severely  disciplined 
by  adversity,  and  that  there  was  now  a  male  in  the 
third  generation — two  lives  to  bear  the  house  forward 
— called  a  trusted  clerk,  told  him  to  forward  relief 
immediately,  then  proceed  to  New  York  and  bring  his 


A  PERPLEXING  COMMISSTON.  5 

son  and  grandson  home  at  once.  On  arriving,  how 
ever,  the  clerk  found  that  Edmund  Dugdale,  for  such 
was  the  son's  name,  was  dead,  and  buried  by  charity. 
Before  his  death  the  child  had  disappeared ;  no  trace 
of  him  being  discoverable.  The  clerk  returned  to 
England,  but  was  sent  back  to  search  for  the  child — a 
search  made  without  result  and  abandoned  after  a 
year  or  two. 

"Now,"  continued  Mr.  Hetlow,  growing  more  im 
pressive,  "Samuel  Dugdale  died  intestate,  and,  if  this 
child  cannot  be  found,  why,  since  she  is  the  daughter 
of  the  sister  of  Samuel  Dugdale,  and  therefore  is  the 
next  of  kin,  my  daughter  Bessie  inherits  this  vast 
property  and  becomes  the  largest  wool  merchant  in 
the  world." 

So  utterly  unexpected  was  the  conclusion  of  the  old 
merchant  that  Dick  Mason  nearly  lost  that  sangfroid 
which  it  was  the  boast  of  his  friends  never  forsook 
him,  under  the  most  trying  occasions. 

"By  Heavens,"  he  murmured,  "what  chance  have 
I  with  a  girl  with  a  million  for  an  income.  It  was 
bad  enough  before,  but  now " 

"Now,"  continued  Mr.  Hetlow,  deeply  interested 
in  his  tale  and  unmindful  of  the  effect  produced  upon 
Dick,  "I  have  a  letter  from  the  family  solicitor  in 
London,  informing  me  of  this  condition  of  affairs,  but 
strongly  asserting  that  before  steps  are  taken  to  put 
Miss  Hetlow  in  possession  of  all  this  property,  I 
should  make  sure  the  grandchild  does  not  exist,  and 
will  not  turn  up  to  make  trouble  and  disappoint  hopes 
that  have  settled  into  certainty.  In  other  words,  the 
solicitor  puts  upon  me  the  burden  of  discovering 
whether  or  not  the  fellow  exists.  If  he  does,  he  must 
now  be  a  young  man  of  twenty-six  or  seven.  It  is  a 
trying  and  strange  position  in  which  to  place  a  man — 
to  force  him  to  a  search  for  one,  who,  if  found,  will 
deprive  his  daughter  of  an  enormous  fortune.  I  do 


6  TffE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS, 

not  think  I  am  more  dishonorable  than  the  average  of 
men,  but  I  freely  confess  I  am  afraid  to  trust  myself 
in  this  matter — afraid  that  by  reason  of  the  great  inter 
ests  involved,  I  may  be  betrayed  into  stopping  short 
of  that  energy  and  persistency  necessary  to  make 
a  search.  It  will  be  a  difficult  one  after  such  a  lapse  of 
years,  but  it  must  be  made — honestly  and  exhaustively 
made.  The  fact  of  the  grandson's  existence  or  death 
must  be  determined.  You,  my  dear  Mason,  are  a  dis 
interested  person.'* 

"Not  so  entirely  disinterested  after  all,'*  thought 
Dick  with  a  grimace. 

"You  are  attached  to  the  house — keen,  sharp,  and 
energetic — and,  as  I  have  frequently  remarked,  pos 
sessed  of  a  great  faculty  for  getting  at  the  bottom  of 
things.  I  feel  that  I  can  trust  you  to  protect  my 
honor,  and  protect  it  against  myself,  by  using  all  the 
requisite  energy  and  ability.  You  will  perceive  upon 
examination  it  is  no  small  trust  I  am  reposing  in  you. 
I  want  you  to  take  it  in  hand  at  once.  The  expense 
will  be  borne  by  the  estate  and  your  drafts  will 
be  honored.  Here,"  continued  Mr.  Hetlow,  as  he 
handed  Dick  a  bundle  of  documents,  "are  copies  of 
papers  forwarded  by  the  solicitor.  After  you  have  read 
them,  you  will  know  all  I  or  anyone  else  can  tell  you." 

Dick  took  the  papers,  fingering  them  over  in  an 
abstracted  manner.  Mr.  Hetlow  waited  for  him  to 
make  some  remarks,  but  hearing  none  he  went  on: 

*'I  know  most  people  would  say  let  the  young  man 
find  himself,  but  I  hoped  I  could  induce  you  to  see 
the  matter  as  I  do,  and  that  a  moral  obligation  rests 
upon  me  to  make  a  vigorous  and  energetic  search. 
Am  I  mistaken?" 

"No,  sir,"  said  Dick  promptly.  "You  are  not  mis 
taken.  Your  wishes  shall  be  obeyed.  You  have  not 
only  induced  me  to  see  the  matter  as  you  do,  but  you 
have  made  me  appreciate  the  keen  sense  of  honor  that 


A  PERPLEXING  COMMISSION.  1 

induces  you  to  put  the  search  on  foot,  and  to  put  it 
into  the  hands  of  one  you  think  will  not  be  influenced 
by  considerations  of  personal  interests." 

The  face  of  the  old  gentleman  flushed  with  pleasure. 
He  arose  from  his  chair  and  extending  his  hand  to  the 
young  man  said: 

"I  thought  you  would  understand  me.'* 

Dick  had  risen  at  the  same  time.  He  stood  a  mo 
ment  deeply  thinking;  finally,  with  an  air  of  timidity, 
he  asked: 

"Does  Miss  Hetlow  know  of  this  matter?" 

"No,"  replied  the  merchant,  "she  is  not  at  home, 
and  this  information  has  reached  me  during  her  ab 
sence.  I  have  not  yet  determined  what  is  the  best 
course  to  pursue — whether  to  withhold  the  facts  for 
the  present  so  as  not  to  accustom  her  to  hopes  and 
aspirations  which  may  never  be  realized,  or  whether 
to  inform  her,  dwelling  strongly  upon  the  possibility 
that  the  grandson  may  be  found." 

Dick  was  about  to  speak,  but  suddenly  checked 
himself. 

"You  were  about  to  say  something,  Mason,*'  said 
Mr.  Hetlow. 

*'I  was  about  to  offer  some  advice,  but  a  second 
thought  suggested  its  impertinence." 

"Nothing  would  be  impertinence  after  the  trust  I 
have  given  you,"  said  the  old  merchant  kindly. 

"I  would  not  inform  her.  The  contemplation  of 
such  riches,  it  seems  to  me,  must  necessarily  affect  the 
imagination,  and,  if  I  find  the  grandson,  the  disap 
pointment  must  of  necessity  be  very  great." 

"Perhaps,"  rejoined  Mr.  Hetlow  thoughtfully. 

"You  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  me,"  asked 
Dick,  as  he  moved  to  the  door. 

"Nothing  except,  and  it  is  not  important,  that 
nearly  thirty  years  ago  a  man  called  at  our  house  in 
Bond  Street,  claiming  relationship  with  my  wife,  who 


8  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

he  said  was  his  aunt,  and  that  his  name  was  Edmund 
Dugdale.  Not  having  heard  at  the  time  of  the  differ 
ences  between  Edmund  and  his  father,  believing  him 
still  to  be  pursuing  his  gay  career  in  London,  and 
because  the  man  was  so  shabby  and  clearly  in  want  of 
money,  we  treated  him  as  an  impostor.  That  is  all. 
You  have  everything  I  can  tell  you  and  a  carte  blanche 
to  proceed  as  you  think  best." 

Dick  went  out,  carrying  the  papers  with  him.  As 
the  door  closed  upon  him  he  stood  still  in  the  passage 
way  that  led  to  his  own  room,  with  his  head  bent  to 
the  floor  for  some  time,  and  then  he  spoke  his  thoughts 
aloud. 

"Well,"  he  ejaculated,  "by  the  great  hickory  post 
that  played  the  banjo  before  General  Jackson,  this  is  a 
go!  I  don't  think  I  quite  take  it  all  in.  I  am  in  love 
with  Bessie  Hetlow.  Whether  she  is  with  me  is  an 
unsolved  problem,  and  before  it  is  solved,  she  rises  upon 
my  vision  as  an  heiress  of  gigantic  possibilities  and 
proportions,  and  I  am  asked  to  find  a  man  who,  if  he 
exists  and  presents  himself,  will  reduce  her  to  a  pov 
erty  of  about  a  hundred  thousand  a  year.  I  am  to  do 
this  wrong  to  the  woman  I  love.  If  I  do  not  find  this 
young  man,  or  find  him  dead,  she  will  sail  off  into  the 
region  where  lords  and  dukes  disport  the  prismatic 
rays  of  their  jeweled  coronets  as  glittering  baits  to 
trap  unwary  heiresses  and  wholly  beyond  my  reach. 
If  I  do  not  find  him,  the  aforesaid  dukes  and  princes 
will  not  spread  their  glittering  bait  and  there  may  be  a 
chance  for  Dick  Mason,  who  has  nothing  but  his  vir 
tues  and  good  clothes  to  commend  him." 

He  lost  himself  in  thought  again.  Finally  he  walked 
off,  saying: 

"My  heart  aches  for  that  poor  young  man,  deprived 
of  all  the  luxuries  these  millions  would  bring  him. 
I'll  find  him  if  it  takes  one  of  these  shapely  legs.  It 
will  be  tough  on  Bessie,  but  then  she  can  compensate 


A  PERPLEXING  COMMISSION.  9 

herself  for  her  loss  by  the  possession  of  this  stout 
and  manly  heart.  I'll  find  Dugdale  junior,  and  make 
him  the  largest  wool  merchant  in  the  world." 

He  went  to  his  own  desk,  and  settled  himself  to  a 
careful  perusal  of  the  documents. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A     REVELATION. 

THE  country-place  of  Mr.  Hetlow,  at  which  he  lived 
six  months  of  each  year,  was  on  the  Hudson,  above 
Dobbs  Ferry.  A  princely  estate  in  all  save  territory, 
what  it  lacked  in  extent,  it  made  up  in  the  superb 
state  of  its  cultivation  and  the  extreme  beauty  of  the 
grounds  which  immediately  surrounded  the  house. 

Mr.  Hetlow  was  an  Englishman,  but  he  had  lived 
from  early  manhood  in  America,  so  long  indeed  that 
he  had  forgotten  that  he  had  ever  been  a  British  sub 
ject.  His  favorite  boast  was  that  he  was  a  good 
American  citizen,  with  a  comfortable  stake  in  the 
country.  His  father,  when  alive,  had  had  an  inter 
est  in  the  firm  of  Samuel  Dugdale  &  Son,  of  London, 
the  name  by  which  the  firm  had  been  known  for  nearly 
two  centuries.  It  would  not  do,  perhaps,  to  say  that 
he  was  a  partner,  but,  as  was  the  custom  of  that  house 
after  years  of  faithful  service,  the  responsible  heads 
were  given  a  share  in  the  profits  in  addition  to  their 
salaries.  This  had  made  him  rich,  and,  as  he  was  the 
manager  of  the  concern,  had  given  him  rank  and  in 
fluence.  When,  in  the  course  of  the  needs  of  the 
widely  extending  business,  it  appeared  that  an  agent 
in  New  York  City  was  advisable,  he  was  influential 
enough  to  secure  the  appointment  for  his  son  Howard, 
the  present  Hetlow,  then  employed  in  the  home  office 
and  about  thirty. 

In  the  New  World  the  young  man  thrived,  broad 
ened  out  into  business  on  his  own  account,  and,  with 


A  REVELATION.  II 

t!w  assistance  of  his  father,  founded  the  great  concern  of 
Hetlow,  Altmount  &  Co.,  always  remaining  the  agent 
of  Samuel  Dugdale  &  Son.  On  one  of  his  visits  to 
the  old  country,  he  had  married  the  younger  sister — a 
half  sister  in  fact,  since  her  mother  was  the  stepmother 
of  the  Dugdale  but  recently  dead — and  with  the  for 
tune  she  had  brought  him,  he  had  so  extended  his 
business  that  he  had  taken  the  lead  in  his  line  in  this 
country. 

At  the  time  of  the  beginning  of  this  tale,  that  is  to 
say  in  1883,  he  was  a  man  of  sixty,  so  hale  and  hearty 
that  few  believed  him  to  be  more  than  fifty.  His  wife 
was  dead  and  his  daughter,  now  but  little  turned  of 
twenty,  was  his  only  child. 

Though  he  boasted  his  thorough  identification  with 
America  and  American  interests,  still  he  retained 
many  British  and  insular  prejudices,  one  of  which  was 
a  peculiar  contempt  for  American  architecture.  Con 
sequently  when  he  built  his  country  residence,  it  was 
strong  enough  for  a  fortress  and  large  enough  for  sev 
eral  families.  It  was  in  fact  a  reproduction  of  the  old 
Dugdale  mansion  in  Kent — a  lordly  and  stately  dwell 
ing. 

Immediately  adjoining  his  place  was  that  of  An 
drew  Stanton,  a  lawyer  practicing  in  New  York,  who 
had  inherited  his  property  from  his  father.  The 
house  was  a  large,  roomy,  rambling,  wooden  structure 
of  the  colonial  period,  as  distinctly  American  as  the 
Hetlow  mansion  was  distinctly  British.  And  Mr. 
Stanton  was  as  diametrically  opposed,  in  methods  of 
thought  and  ways  of  life,  to  Mr.  Hetlow  as  their  re 
spective  houses  were  opposed  to  each  other.  Never 
theless  they  were  the  best  of  friends,  and  though 
from  the  time  Mr.  Hetlow  left  in  the  autumn  to  take 
up  his  residence  in  his  town  house,  until  he  returned 
in  the  spring,  the  two  men  never  saw  each  other,  they 
renewed  their  intimacy  at  that  season  of  the  year  as  if 


12  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

a  day  only  had  parted  them,  and  quarreled  over  their 
politics  and  religion  with  a  hearty  liking  for  each  other. 

Mrs.  Stanton  was  a  second  wife,  some  twenty-five 
years  younger  than  her  husband.  She  was  a  good, 
kindly  woman — hospitable  and  charitable,  but  pos 
sessed  of  the  demon  jealousy.  Certainly  the  life  of 
her  husband  did  not  justify  the  doubts  she  enter 
tained,  but  as  she  was  a  woman  thoroughly  ingrained 
with  superstition,  devoutly  believing  in  the  revelation  of 
the  unknown  by  means  of  signs  and  dreams,  she  pursued 
him  with  her  suspicions.  As  she  was  nightly  dreaming 
that  he  was  making  tender  love  to  some  woman  she 
had  never  known  or  heard  of,  she  was  daily  vexing 
herself  with  jealousy  of  the  unknown,  to  his  infinite 
perplexity  and  irritation.  Moreover  she  had  frequent 
recourse  to  the  cards,  as  revealing  his  relations  to  the 
fair  sex,  and  seasoned  his  dinners  with  veiled  allusions 
to  a  diamond  woman,  or  a  spade  woman,  to  his  com 
plete  mystification  and  the  intense  amusement  of  the 
other  member  of  his  household,  a  young  girl. 

This  young  girl  was  Mr.  Stanton's  niece,  an  orphan 
he  cared  for,  the  child  of  his  younger  sister — Wallis 
Gladwin — a  frolicsome  sprite  with  a  rare  fund  of 
humor,  whose  mischievousness  brightened,  as  well  as 
perplexed,  the  somber  old  house.  She  was  the  bosom 
friend  of  Bessie  Hetlow  though  three  years  her  junior, 
and  in  all  things,  complexion,  size,  spirits,  mind,  and 
humor,  the  direct  opposite  of  her  friend.  Beauty, 
though  widely  different,  they  possessed  in  common. 
They  loved  each  other  as  dearly  as  sisters  never  sep 
arated  could,  and  were  devout  believers  in  each  other. 
The  house  of  one  was  almost  the  house  of  the  other. 
In  this  friendship  Mr.  Hetlow  and  Mr.  Stanton  and 
his  wife  acquiesced,  notwithstanding  the  former  stood 
somewhat  in  dread  of  the  quick  tongue  and  in4epen- 
dent  personality  of  Wallis,  and  the  headlong  direct 
ness  with  which  she  plunged  in  "wd  arrived  at  the 


A  REVELATION1.  13 

truth  of  things  which  seemed  obscure  to  him,  and 
notwithstanding  the  latter  gentleman  feared  the  influ 
ence  upon  his  ward,  the  knowledge  of  the  luxuries  of 
wealth  she  obtained  through  her  close  association  with 
Bessie  would  naturally  exert. 

It  was  a  sunny  afternoon  in  late  September,  that 
Bessie  returned  to  her  home  from  her  visit  to  the 
Negleys  on  Long  Island.  She  sent  word  to  Wallis 
that  she  was  home  and  was  dying  to  see  her,  as  soon 
as  she  arrived,  which  message  brought  Wallis  in  haste 
to  the  Hetlow  mansion. 

Notwithstanding  Dick's  advice,  Mr.  Hetlow,  after 
consultation  with  his  lawyer,  had  determined  to  pre 
pare  his  daughter's  mind  for  the  brilliant  possibilities 
opening  to  her.  He  was  anxious  to  have  the  matter 
off  his  mind.  With  Dick  prosecuting  the  search  vig 
orously  and  his  daughter  properly  informed,  he  could, 
with  easy  conscience,  return  to  his  pursuits  of  busi 
ness  and  pleasure.  He  therefore  awaited  her  return 
with  impatience.  Before  leaving  for  the  city  on  the 
morning  of  the  day  his  daughter  was  to  return,  he 
wrote  her  a  letter  saying  that  he  had  a  matter  of  grave 
importance  to  communicate  to  her,  upon  his  return, 
begging  she  would  make  no  engagement  to  interfere 
with  this  communication. 

Bessie  was  reading  the  letter  when  Wallis  entered 
and  found  her  grave  and  puzzled  by  its  formality. 
The  two  friends  sat  down  to  speculate  upon  what  it 
might  portend. 

"Someone  has  proposed  for  your  hand,"  said 
Wallis  positively. 

This  was  her  favorite  speculation — a  brilliant  pro 
posal  of  marriage  for  her  friend — a  thought  which 
desolated  her  when  she  recalled  the  separation  it 
would  entail. 

"Oh,  dear!  I  hope  not,"  cried  Bessie.  "I  do 
hate  these  ready-made  courtships  where  the  man 


14  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

comes  with  the  blessing  of  the  father  upon  the  union, 
before  there  has  been  a  word  of  love." 

"Let  us  go  over  to  Aunt  Ellen  and  get  her  to  cut 
the  cards  for  its  meaning,"  laughed  Wallis.  "The 
dear  old  girl  is  in  the  humor  for  it.  She  is  in  great 
grief  to-day." 

"In  great  grief?"  repeated  Bessie,  in  wonder. 

"Yes,  in  great  grief.  She  dreamed  last  night  that 
she  saw  Uncle  Andrew  kissing  a  beautiful  woman  in  a 
red  shawl,  and  she  is  so  jealous  of  that  woman  that 
she  is  to-day  bemoaning  her  sad  fate  and  the  misery 
she  is  subjected  to." 

"Oh,  no;  we  won't  go,"  replied  Bessie,  "we  will 
only  be  treated  to  a  lament  over  the  miseries  of  matri 
mony  and  a  lecture  on  the  joys  of  spinsterhood." 

"Perhaps,  Bess,"  exclaimed  Wallis,  after  a  moment 
of  silence,  during  which  she  had  curled  herself  into  a 
queer  little  heap  on  the  lounge,  "perhaps  Mr.  Mason 
has  declared  himself  to  your  father." 

The  color  rose  to  the  cheeks  of  the  fair  young  girl, 
and  she  said  with  an  evident  effort  at  contempt : 

"Mr.  Mason!  If  he  has,  I  shall  say  no  at  once, 
and  most  emphatically." 

"Why?"  asked  Wallis,  her  black  eyes  opened  to 
their  fullest  extent.  "Bess,  you  mustn't  tell  me  you 
don't  like  him,  for  I  know  that  you  do.  Don't  you 
think  I  have  seen  it?" 

"Do  you  suppose,"  retorted  Bessie,  with  much 
haste,  as  if  she  found  refuge  in  the  words,  "do  you 
suppose  that  I  could  have  any  respect  for  a  man  who 
would  go  to  your  father  before  he  sued  for  your  hand? 
Certainly  not.  That  would  be  taking  all  the  spirit  out 
the  affair.  It  must  be  like  that  drink  your  uncle 
takes,  when  he  burns  all  the  alcohol  out  of  his  brandy. 
Just  think  of  it!  Afraid  to  speak  to  the  girl  before  he 
gets  the  father's  consent,  then  having  obtained  it, 
comes  expecting  her  to  fall  down  before  him,  because, 


A  REVELATION.  1 5 

forsooth,  her  father  favors  his  suit.  Bah,  I'd  despise 
such  a  man,  as  every  girl  of  spirit  would.  Mr.  Mason 
wouldn't  do  such  a  thing.  No,  he'd  rather  run  away 
with  the  girl  first  and  ask  the  father  afterward." 

"Therefore,  you  do  not  despise  Mr.  Mason," 
remarked  Wallis  with  a  sly  glance. 

"I  don't  say  that  I  despise  him,  or  I  don't!  Why 
should  I?  However,  you  are  wrong." 

"And  why,  my  pretty  demure  puss?" 

"Because — because  I  know." 

"Most  excellent  reason,  but  not  very  clear,"  re 
plied  the  cynic  on  the  lounge. 

"Well,  I've  seen  Mr.  Mason — only  a  day  or  two 
ago." 

"Oh,  where?     Tell  me  all  about  it." 

Cynicism  lost  in  interest. 

"At  the  Negleys'.  He  came  up  to  the  garden 
party.  And  we  had  a  long — well  we  had  a  talk.  And 
Wallis,  what  do  you  think  he  told  me?" 

"Oh,  go  on,  don't  be  so  slow  telling  it." 

"He  said  that  my  father  had  given  him  a  direct 
hint  that  his  calls  at  our  house  were  not  quite  the 
thing  in  a  clerk." 

"The  beast!" 

"Who?     Mr.  Mason?" 

"No,  your  father.  You  agreed  with  your  father  of 
course." 

"Of  course  I  didn't.     I  couldn't  be  so  impolite." 

"What  did  you  tell  him?  That  they  were  just  the 
thing  and  you  wept  when  they  were  not?" 

"Nonsense!    I  evaded  any  reply — in  words  that  is." 

"Oh!  But  made  him  understand  that  the  daughter 
differed  with  the  father  on  this  important  question?' 

"Not  at  all.  He  was  so  pressing — so  ardent  in 
fact,  that  I  had  to  play  stiff  Miss  Propriety,  and  then 
you  know  we  had  been  for  an  hour  in  the  greenery  by 
ourselves — Heavens!"  she  broke  off  with  a  scream. 


l6  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"What  is  it?  For  gracious  sake  what?"  cried 
Wallis  in  alarm. 

"That  is  what  the  letter  is  about." 

"What,  the  greenery?" 

"Yes;  someone  has  told  father!" 

"There  will  be  a  time.  I  must  be  with  you  when 
the  storm  breaks." 

"No,  no;  I  don't  care  for  myself.  All  he  can  do 
will  be  to  scold,  but  poor  Dick ' 

"Oh,  poor  Dick —         It's  poor  Dick  now,  is  it?" 

"Please  don't  tease,  because  this  is  very  serious. 
You  know  Dick — that  is,  Mr.  Mason,  is  in  papa's 
office,  and  if  papa  were  to  cut  up  rough  it  might  be 
very  serious  for  Mr.  Mason." 

"And  if  he  does?" 

"Well,  it  may  be  very  hard  on  Mr.  Mason.  Just 
for  fancying  one,  you  know." 

"Just  for  loving  his  employer's  daughter.  But  you 
see  he  ought  not  to  aspire  so  high,  and  the  lovely  prin 
cess  should  not  stoop  to  so  lowly  a  knight." 

"Mr.  Mason  is  a  gentleman." 

"But  as  poor  as  I  am — the  traditional  church  mouse. 
Yet  if  you  are  irretrievably  steeped  in  your  folly,  and 
if  Papa  Hetlow  proceeds  to  extremes,  you  will  have 
but  one  thing  to  do." 

"What?" 

"Marry  poor  Dick  and  compel  the  Hetlow  Fortress 
to  succumb  from  attacks  from  without." 

"What?  Without  his  even  asking  me  to  marry 
him?" 

"I  presume  he  has  done  that  already." 

"No,  he  has  not  even  presumed  to  do  so.  I 
wouldn't  let  him  go  so  far." 

"Bess,"  cried  Wallis,  uncurling  herself  and  assum 
ing  great  severity.  "You  are  not  flirting  with  that 
young  man?" 

"Suppose  I  am,  what  then?" 


A  REVELATION.  I| 

"You  are  not  leading  him  on  just  to  throw  him 
Over  and  break  his  heart?  Bess,  I  don't — I  can't 
believe  it  of  you." 

"Why  not?  I'm  sure  it's  no  more  than  I  have 
seen  you  do  a  score  of  times." 

"You  never  saw  me  flirt  with  anything  but  a  rich 
young  man.  I  never  in  all  my  life  tried  to  break  the 
heart  of  a  poor  young  man." 

"Where  is  the  difference?" 

"Bess,  I  know  the  pangs  of  poverty,  and  I  have 
deep  sympathy  for  that  poor  young  man,  Dick  Mason, 
with  his  lovely  mustache.  What  will  he  have  to  con 
sole  him,  when  you  break  his  heart?  You  throw  him 
over  and  not  only  does  he  lose  the  loveliest  and  most 
beautiful  girl  in  all  the  world,  but  a  lot  of  money 
besides.  If  you  are  determined  to  break  hearts  break 
a  rich  man's  heart,  then  he's  got  his  money  to  console 
him." 

"So  you  think  Mr.  Mason  is  after  money." 

"No,  I  don't.  And  you  know  he  isn't.  I  don't 
believe  Dick  Mason  cares  a  copper  penny  for  all  the 
money  your  father  has  got." 

"You  seem  to  be  a  warm  friend  of  Mr.  Mason." 

"I  am,  and  I  mean  he  shall  know  it.  And  Bess,  if 
you  don't  love  that  Dick  Mason  and  marry  him  too, 
I'll  never  speak  to  you  again,  and  I'll — I'll — I'll " 

"Marry  him  yourself?" 

"No,  I  won't;  he's  too  poor." 

"Who  is  mercenary  now?"  laughed  Bessie. 

Before  Wallis  could  retort,  the  roll  of  wheels  upon 
the  gravel  of  the  carriageway  was  heard.  The  young 
girl  springing  to  the  window  cried  out: 

"It  is  your  father,  Bess.  Now  comes  the  tug  of 
war.  Shall  I  stay?  No?  Then  I'll  run  home  and 
come  back  after  dinner  to  learn  who  is  victor  in  the 
sanguinary  battle. " 

She  had  hardly  left  the  apartment  when  a  servant 


1 8  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

announced  to  Bessie  that  her  father  would  be  pleased 
to  see  her  in  the  library. 

Bracing  herself  for  the  shock  she  was  convinced  she 
was  to  sustain,  and  assuming  the  demurest  expression 
she  could  summon,  Bessie  descended  to  the  room, 
which  from  her  earliest  childhood  had  been  associated 
with  scoldings,  punishment,  and  serious  affairs. 

The  affectionate  greeting  of  her  father  surprised  her, 
for  she  was  nerved  to  encounter  stern  looks  and 
reproaches. 

"Since  you  have  been  from  home,  Bessie,"  he  said, 
as  he  led  her  to  a  recessed  window  where  he  sat  down 
with  her,  "I  have  received  extraordinary  news. 
Before  I  relate  it,  I  must  warn  you  to  receive  it  with  ali 
the  self-command  you  can  summon,  and  also  not  to 
build  too  many  hopes  upon  it,  because  the  matter  is 
not  definitely  settled.  The  chances  are,  I  think,  that 
our  hopes  will  be  realized.  But  in  either  event,  I 
hope  to  see  you  bear  yourself  in  a  modest  and  womanly 
way,  and  in  either  event,  I  am  quite  certain  your 
qualities  of  mind  and  heart  will  be  severely  tested." 

This  exordium  greatly  whetted  the  curiosity  of 
Bessie,  who  was  unable  to  perceive  in  what  direction 
it  tended.  Mr.  Hetlow  related  the  story  he  had  told 
Mason  some  days  previously,  differing  only  in  that  he 
dwelt  more  strongly  upon  the  possibility  of  finding  the 
missing  grandson;  nevertheless  he  could  not  deny  him 
self  the  pleasure  of  dilating  upon  the  brilliant  future 
possible  for  her.  When  he  had  finished,  her  first 
remark  increased  his  respect  for  her. 

"It  will  be  an  awful  responsibility,"  she  said.  "I 
shrink  from  the  thought  of  it." 

She  was  sobered  by  the  tale,  not  elated.  Dreams 
of  a  more  brilliant  existence  did  not  have  place  with 
her,  upon  the  contrary  she  was  saddened  by  the 
thought  of  so  much  riches. 

"Perhaps  the  young  man  will  be  found,"  she  con- 


A  REVELATION,  19 

tinued  after  some  silence,  and  she  added  softly,  "I 
hope  he  will.  If  he  is  alive  the  money  is  his.  He 
ought  to  have  it.  I  hope  he  is  being  sought  for." 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Hetlow,  who  was  subject  to 
mixed  sensations — pleasure  that  his  daughter  bore  the 
news  so  steadily,  and  disappointment  that  she  showed 
no  greater  appreciation.  "Yes,  an  honest  and  ener 
getic  search  is  now  being  made.  The  whole  matter 
has  been  placed  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Mason." 

"Who?"  she  inquired  sharply. 

"Mr.  Mason — Richard  Mason — one  of  our  clerks. 
You  know  him — a  very  able,  shrewd,  and  energetic 
young  man;  admirably  adapted  for  the  labor." 

Bessie  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  looking  out 
upon  the  lawn  which  she  did  not  see,  then  asked: 

"Does  he  know  all  the  story?" 

"All  of  it,"  replied  her  father. 

"Does  he  understand  that  if  he  succeeds  in  the 
search  he  deprives  me  of  millions?" 

Her  father  did  not  comprehend  the  meaning  back 
of  the  question,  and  replied  with  a  smile: 

"He  is  not  dull  and  must  understand  such  will  be 
the  result  of  his  success." 

"And  he  was  willing  to  undertake  it — he  made  no 
objections?"  she  persisted. 

Her  father,  still  failing  to  perceive  the  hidden  mean 
ing  of  her  words,  replied  haughtily: 

"I  cannot  see  what  interest  he  can  have  in  it,  but 
to  do  his  duty.  I  directed  him  to  undertake  the 
search.  He  is  my  clerk.  He  did  not  undertake  it  as 
the  act  of  a  friend." 

"No,"  she  replied  wearily,  rising  from  her  seat  with 
a  peculiar  smile  upon  her  lips.  "It  does  not  look  like 
the  act  of  a  friend.  However,  let  us  hope  he  will  be 
successful  and  forget  all  about  it.  The  thought  of  so 
much  riches  stifles  me." 

She  left  her  father  alone  to  wonder  over  the  singu- 


20  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

lar  manner  his  daughter  had  received  the  tale,  for  like 
most  men  he  placed  riches  above  all  things. 

And  she  went  to  her  room  to  wonder  alone  over  the 
readiness  with  which  Dick  had  undertaken  to  deprive 
her  of  a  fortune,  for  like  most  women  she  placed  the 
devotion  of  a  heart  above  all  things. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE     FIRST     STEP. 

FROM  a  careful  perusal  of  the  documents  given  him 
by  Mr.  Hetlow,  Dick  gathered  these  data,  as  the  basis 
for  the  search  he  was  to  enter  upon: 

In  1853  Edmund  Dugdale,  with  his  wife,  arrived 
in  New  York  and  was  immediately  lost  to  view ;  in 
1855  he  reappeared  and  was  employed  by  a  lawyer 
named  Stanton;  in  1856  a  child  was  born  to  them;  in 
1857  young  Dugdale  was  discharged  by  Stanton, 
under  the  accusation  of  having  sold  valuable  papers 
pertaining  to  a  litigation  to  the  other  side;  in  1858  he 
was  employed  in  a  minor  capacity  in  the  office  of  the 
Courier  and  Inquirer \  living  at  the  time  in  MacDougall 
Street,  where  his  wife  died;  in  1858  he  had  applied  to 
his  father  for  relief;  in  the  same  year,  the  lawyer  Stan- 
ton,  hearing  the  truth  as  to  the  lost  documents,  en 
deavored  to  repair  the  wrong,  but  was  too  late,  for  the 
man  was  dying  and  all  he  could  do  was  to  secure  for 
him  a  decent  burial ;  the  final  fact  was  that  a  few  days 
before  Dugdale's  death  the  child  had  disappeared  and 
no  one  could  tell  where. 

The  difficulties  of  Dick's  task  grew  with  the  con 
sideration  of  them.  A  quarter  of  a  century  had  elapsed 
since  the  death  of  Edmund,  and  there  was  every  indi 
cation  that  he  had  kept  the  fact  of  his  relationship  to 
the  great  London  merchant  to  himself.  The  Courier 
and  Inquirer  was  out  of  existence,  and,  if  by  any 
chance  Dick  could  find  anyone  employed  upon  that 
paper,  it  was  extremely  doubtful  if  recollection  of  a 


22  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

man  employed  in  a  minor  capacity  for  a  short  time 
could  be  stirred. 

The  chances  of  finding  the  son  of  Edmund,  or  of 
obtaining  any  knowledge  of  him,  seemed  to  be  small. 
Duty,  however,  demanded  that  he  should  proceed  with 
his  inquiry,  but  he  felt  it  would  be  conducted  without 
enthusiasm,  because  there  must  necessarily  be  an  ab 
sence  of  belief  in  a  successful  outcome. 

The  final  result  of  all  his  thoughts  upon  the  subject 
was  the  determination  to  confer  with  a  celebrated 
detective  of  the  day,  Captain  Lawton,  with  whom  he 
was  upon  friendly  terms,  with  a  view  of  obtaining 
suggestions  as  to  the  best  method  of  proceeding. 
That  shrewd  and  capable  official  listened  to  the  tale 
with  interest.  "Your  task  is  a  difficult  one,"  he  said 
at  its  conclusion.  "You  have  very  little  to  go  upon 
in  the  beginning.  The  first  thing  you  should  do,  is  to 
take  steps  to  obtain  knowledge  of  the  surroundings  of 
Edmund  Dugdale  while  he  was  living  here — the  people 
he  knew  and  associated  with.  You  must  begin  with 
the  lawyer  Stanton.  Go  to  the  Law  Library  and  get  a 
list  of  the  lawyers  of  the  name  of  Stanton  practicing  in 
the  city  in  1855  and  trace  them  down  to  1883.  Don't 
bother  with  those  who  have  come  into  practice  after 
1855.  Insert  an  advertisement  in  all  the  papers,  and 
keep  it  standing,  for  anyone  who  had  knowledge  of 
Edmund  Dugdale  in  the  years  1853  to  1857.  Some 
thing  may  come  of  it." 

Dick  acted  upon  this  advice  at  once.  He  could 
find  but  one  lawyer  of  the  name  of  Stanton  practicing 
in  1883  who  was  at  the  bar  in  1855.  His  name  was 
Andrew  Stanton.  On  calling  at  his  office  in  Wall 
Street  he  was  told  that  Mr.  Stanton  was  gradually 
retiring  from  business,  and  that  he  was  away  from  the 
office  for  long  periods  of  time,  nor  had  anyone  know 
ledge  as  to  when  he  would  next  make  his  appearance. 
To  his  surprise,  he  learned  that  the  house  of  this  law- 


THE  FIRST  STEP.  23 

yer  was  immediately  adjoining  the  grounds  of  Mr. 
Hetlow  above  Dobbs  Ferry.  To  make  the  trip  seemed 
necessary,  and  he  concluded  to  do  it  forthwith. 

It  was  a  delightful  afternoon  when  he  arrived  at 
Dobbs  Ferry — one  of  those  soft,  balmy  days  not  un- 
frequent  in  this  climate  in  the  latter  part  of  September 
and  the  early  part  of  October,  when  the  air  is  heavy 
with  languor,  and  a  deep,  rich  haze  settles  upon  the 
distant  hills.  Dick  procured  a  conveyance  to  carry 
him  to  the  residence  of  the  old  lawyer. 

As  he  was  borne  swiftly  over  the  hard  smooth  road 
that  ran  along  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  from  which  occa 
sional  glimpses  of  the  river  smiling  under  the  sun 
could  be  seen,  he  wondered  if  after  his  interview  with 
the  old  lawyer  he  could  not  find  an  excuse  to  call  upon 
his  employer.  Dick  was  too  frank  to  deceive  himself 
with  the  idea  that  a  call  was  necessary,  but  he  thought 
that  under  such  excuse  he  might  be  able  to  see  Bessie. 
He  was  in  that  frame  of  mind,  when  he  condemned 
himself  for  an  idiot  for  fluttering  like  a  moth  about 
the  candle  flame,  but  he  thought  that  if  he  was  singe 
ing  his  wings,  after  all  he  was  getting  a  good  deal  of 
pleasure  out  of  the  pursuit,  even  if  it  was  accompanied 
with  the  pain  of  the  uncertainty  as  to  whether  or  not 
his  ardency  was  returned. 

The  young  gentleman  had  a  very  fair  appreciation 
of  his  own  graces  of  person  and  mind,  and  his  self- 
esteem  was  not  of  such  modest  dimensions  as  permit 
ted  him  to  admit  that  he  was  not  a  goodly  mate  for 
any  beauty,  but  he  was,  withal,  clear-headed  and 
worldly  wise,  and  he  knew  very  well  he  was  not  in 
cluded  in  the  category  of  eligible  young  men,  and  he 
feared  that  however  much  pleasure  Bessie  might  derive 
from  surreptitious  flirtations  with  him,  she  still  had 
been  trained  in  the  idea  that  in  the  serious  affairs  of 
the  heart  she  must  direct  her  eyes  to  one  who  would 
bring  more  wealth  and  position  than  he  could,  at  all 


24  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

events  for  many  years  to  come.  Yet  a  complete  real 
ization  of  the  bar  which  existed  between  them  did  not 
prevent  him  from  seizing  every  opportunity  to  throw 
himself  into  Bessie  Hetlow's  society.  The  truth  of  it 
was  that  he  was  in  love  with  the  fair  young  girl — in 
love  with  herself,  apart  from  any  consideration  of  the 
worldly  advantages  of  such  a  match. 

These  thoughts  occupied  his  mind  until  the  carriage 
stopped  in  front  of  the  residence  of  Mr.  Stanton  and 
he  was  compelled  to  alight.  Handing  his  card  to  a 
servant  who  responded  to  his  ring,  he  was  ushered 
into  a  small  apartment  near  the  door  and  here  he  was 
left  to  himself  for  some  time.  Finally,  there  came  to 
him  a  middle-aged  lady,  who  informed  him  that  her 
husband  was  absent,  but  was  expected  home  momen 
tarily.  She  asked  him  to  remain,  yet  suggested,  and, 
as  Mason  thought,  with  a  curious  mixture  of  eager 
ness  and  timidity,  that  she  might,  perhaps,  be  able  to 
serve  him. 

Dick  replied  that  he  did  not  think  she  could,  as  his 
business  must  necessarily  be  with  Mr.  Stanton  on  a 
matter  she  could  not  be  expected  to  have  any  know 
ledge  of.  Why  so  polite  and  guarded  a  response 
should  have  produced  the  effect  it  did,  Dick  could  not 
determine,  but  he  observed  with  a  great  deal  of  sur 
prise  that  the  lady  became  the  prey  to  repressed  ex 
citement  and  that  her  voice  fairly  trembled  as  she 
asked : 

"Is  it  a  matter  which  concerns  Mr.  Stanton?" 

Dick  was  so  much  surprised  at  the  eagerness  with 
which  she  asked  the  question,  that  he  hesitated  in 
replying,  and  the  lady  repeated  it  with  an  appearance 
of  increased  alarm.  Then  he  hastened  to  assure  her 
that  it  did  not.  An  expression  of  disappointment 
swept  over  her  face  as  she  fell  into  a  brown  study,  and 
Dick  began  to  feel  that  he  had  happened  upon  the 
lawyer  in  an  inopportune  moment,  in  that  it  was  a 


THE  FIRST  STEP.  25 

period  of  some  domestic  distress.  The  lady  emerged 
from  her  brown  study  with  a  sudden  question. 

"Is  he  in  any  trouble?" 

"Who,  your  husband?"  asked  Dick. 

"Yes?"   most  eagerly. 

"Not  that  I  am  aware  of,"  replied  Dick. 

She  was  silent  again  for  a  few  moments,  her  hand 
playing  in  a  curious  fluttering  way  from  her  lap  to  the 
side  of  her  dress.  Again  she  propelled  a  sudden 
question  at  him. 

"Do  you  come  to  make  trouble  for  him?" 

"No.     Certainly  not." 

Mrs.  Stanton  cast  a  look  of  deep  incredulity  upon 
him  as  she  rose,  begging  to  be  excused,  and  crossed  the 
wide  hall,  into  a  room  directly  opposite,  and  as  she  did 
so,  Dick  saw  her  draw  something  from  her  pocket 
which  looked  like  a  pack  of  playing  cards.  As  Dick 
could  see  by  looking  into  the  mirror  in  the  room,  she 
seated  herself  at  the  table  and  began  a  hasty  distribu 
tion  of  the  cards  into  small  piles  upon  it,  and  then, 
picking  up  each  pile,  hastily  ran  them  over  in  her 
hands,  poring  intently  over  them.  Having  run  over 
each  one  of  the  piles,  she  gathered  them  together  with 
the  air  and  gesture  of  one  who  had  arrived  at  a  satis 
factory  conclusion,  which  had  convinced  her  as  to  her 
course.  She  returned  hastily,  before  Dick  could 
imagine  what  her  action  meant. 

"Who  is  the  woman?"  she  demanded,  standing 
immediately  in  front  of  him. 

"The  woman,  madam?"  asked  Dick,  thoroughly 
mystified.  "I  know  of  no  woman." 

"It  is  a  heart  woman,"  she  continued  most  posi 
tively.  "There  is  no  doubt  about  it.  You  cannot 
conceal  it  from  me.  I  knew  trouble  was  coming.  I 
dreamed  so  last  night.  It  is  a  woman  with  yellow  hair 
and  blue  eyes.  I  saw  it  clearly  in  the  cards." 

Dick  stared  at  her  stupidly  and  began  to  believe 


26  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

that  some  demented  creature  had  escaped  her 
keeper. 

"I  am  sure,  madam,"  he  replied,  in  a  tone  intended 
to  soothe  her,  "I  do  not  understand  you." 

"Is  she  anything  to  you?  Sister?  Or  wife?"  she 
persisted. 

"Madam,  you  will  certainly  have  to  be  plainer  with 
me  before  I  can  understand  you." 

"I  know  you  have  come  to  see  Mr.  Stanton  about  a 
woman.  It  is  true.  I  have  tested  it  and  I  know.  Per 
haps  you  and  I  can  settle  the  trouble." 

"You  are  wholly  mistaken,"  said  the  wondering 
Dick,  thinking  that  Mr.  Stanton  was  either  a  very 
improper  person  or  else  a  very  much  younger  man 
than  he  had  supposed  him  to  be.  "I  came  to  make 
inquiries  as  to  a  young  man  who,  I  suppose,  was  in 
the  employ  of  Mr.  Stanton  twenty-five  years  ago. 
My  name  is  Mason,  and  I  am  in  the  employ  of  your 
neighbor  Mr.  Hetlow." 

"Oh,  indeed!"  she  cried,  her  manner  changing 
instantly.  "Are  you  that  Mr.  Mason?  I've  heard 
Wallis  speak  of  you.  Neverthless  I  know  it  will  come. 
I  look  for  it  every  day.  It  is  terrible,  this  dread  and 
suspense." 

Before  Dick  could  ask  what  was  terrible,  a  heavy 
footfall  was  heard  in  the  hall.  Mrs.  Stanton  went  to 
the  door  and  said  to  someone  outside: 

"There  is  a  gentleman  to  see  you,  pa." 

She  returned  to  her  seat,  followed  by  a  man  cer 
tainly  not  less  than  sixty,  spare  in  frame,  and  severe  in 
expression,  whose  whole  appearance  suggested  rigidity, 
principles,  and  rules.  One  less  likely  to  be  an  object 
of  jealousy  upon  the  part  of  his  wife,  Dick  could  not 
possibly  imagine,  and  therefore  he  concluded  that 
Mrs.  Stanton  was  slightly  deranged. 

Dick  was  treated  politely,  and  he  plunged  into  his 
business  at  once. 


THE  FIRST  STEP.  aj 

"Mr.  Stanton, "  he  said,  "I  have  come  from  New 
York  in  pursuit  of  information  and  beg  to  ask  a  ques 
tion,  by  the  answer  to  which  I  can  tell  at  once  whether 
I  need  to  further  trouble  you  in  the  matter." 

Mrs.  Stanton  leaned  forward  in  intense  interest,  her 
lips  parted  in  her  eagerness,  and  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
her  husband.  Mr.  Stanton  hesitated  before  he  re 
plied,  pursing  up  his  lips,  and  wrinkling  his  brow. 

"Proceed,  sir,"  he  said,  after  a  moment's  thought, 
"but  I  reserve  the  right  to  answer  or  not  as  I  see  fit" 

"Of  course!  of  course,"  muttered  Mrs.  Stanton 
loud  enough  for  both  to  hear,  and  in  a  tone  which 
indicated  her  intense  appreciation  of  her  husband's 
cunning. 

Mr.  Stanton  turned  to  her  and  said  sharply,  "Now 
don't  be  silly." 

"The  right  to  answer  or  not,"  said  Dick  cour 
teously,  "cannot  be  denied  by  me,  of  course.  The 
question  is  this.  Did  you  ever  have  in  your  employ 
a  man  named  Dugdale?" 

"Why,  yes,"  answered  the  lawyer  promptly,  "but  it 
vras  some  twenty-five  or  six  years  ago." 

"That  is  as  I  understand  it,"  said  Dick. 

"But  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  inquiry  at  this 
late  day?" 

"It  is  the  first  step  in  a  search  for  the  son  of  Ed 
mund  Dugdale,  I  am  commissioned  to  make  by  my 
employer  Mr.  Hetlow,  your  neighbor." 

"Hetlow!"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  "why  the  deuce  did 
he  not  ask  me  himself?" 

"I  presume,"  said  Dick,  "that  he  was  not  aware 
you  ever  knew  Edmund  Dugdale.  I  came  to  suppose 
so,  by  learning  that  a  lawyer  of  the  name  of  Stanton 
employed  him  in  1855,  and  search  revealed  to  me  that 
of  all  of  that  name  at  the  bar  in  that  year,  still  alive  and 
practicing  in  1883,  you  are  the  only  one.  So  I  began 
with  you." 


*8  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"I  see,"  said  Mr.  Stanton.  "I  employed  Dugdale 
and  discharged  him  under  an  accusation  I  subse 
quently  learned  did  him  wrong,  and  I  sought  to  repair 
my  error,  but  I  was  too  late.  He  was  dying  when  I 
went  to  see  him  and  so  I  buried  him  as  the  best  thing 
I  could  do.  But  I  have  no  knowledge  of  a  child." 

"Probably,"  said  Dick.  "We  know  his  child  dis 
appeared  several  days  before  his  death.  My  object  in 
calling  upon  you,  was  to  ask  if  you  could  tell  me 
something  of  the  surroundings  of  Edmund  Dugdale." 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Stanton  lost  interest  in  the  con 
versation,  and  made  an  excuse  to  retire. 

"I  knew  nothing  about  Dugdale  when  he  came  to 
me,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  taking  up  the  dialogue  after 
Mrs.  Stanton  went  out.  "He  wrote  an  excellent  hand, 
and  that  was  his  sole  recommendation.  I  came  to 
believe  he  had  been  unfortunate,  had  not  been  accus 
tomed  to  earning  his  living,  and  had  seen  more  pros 
perous  days  than  those  he  had  fallen  on  with  me. 
But  he  never  talked  of  himself,  nor  did  I  ask  him  any 
questions." 

"Did  you  know  anyone  who  knew  him  in  those 
days?" 

"No,"  replied  Mr.  Stanton  indifferently. 

Dick  thought  he  would  have  to  enlist  the  old  man's 
interest  by  telling  him  the  tale  of  the  fortune  begging 
for  an  heir,  since  he  seemed  so  indifferent,  so  he  said: 

''Edmund  Dugdale's  son  is  the  heir  to  a  great  for 
tune.  I  do  not  presume  Mr.  Hetlow  desires  wide 
publicity  of  the  affair,  but  so  distinguished  a  lawyer 
as  you  are,  and  one  having  such  wide  experience,  is 
accustomed  to  holding  great  secrets,  and  I  am  quite 
sure  I  will  not  go  astray  in  telling  you  the  story." 

Whereupon  he  told  it  all  as  he  had  received  it  from 
Mr.  Hetlow  and  as  he  had  gathered  it  from  the  written 
reports  made  by  Samuel  Dugdale's  clerk  to  his  em 
ployer.  He  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  he  had 


THE  FIRST  STEP.  29 

thoroughly  aroused  the  old  man's  interest  by  the  time 
he  had  finished. 

"I  know  something  about  this,"  he  said.  "That 
clerk  of  Samuel  Dugdale's  you  speak  of,  came  to  see 
me.  But  he  was  a  thick-witted  fellow  and  undertook 
to  lecture  me  upon  what  he  called  my  presumption  in 
daring  to  discharge  Samuel  Dugdale's  son — as  if  I 
cared  for,  or  knew  of,  Samuel  Dugdale.  I  drove  him 
from  the  office.  But  he  said  nothing  about  a  child  of 
Edmund." 

He  thought  a  long  time. 

"Dugdale  was  living  in  MacDougall  Street  in  a  sin 
gle  room  under  the  roof,  with  a  family  from  whom  he 
hired  the  room,  when  I  went  to  see  him,"  he  con 
tinued.  "He  only  lodged  there.  Several  days  after 
I  learned  the  truth  about  the  papers  I  thought  he  had 
sold,  and  while  I  was  thinking  what  I  could  do  to 
repair  the  wrong  I  had  done  him,  the  man  in  whose 
house  he  was  living  came  to  me,  to  say  Dugdale  was 
very  ill,  and  in  great  distress.  I  went  immediately, 
but  he  was  dying  when  I  reached  him — very  weak,  and 
did,  in  fact,  die  while  I  was  there — from  starvation,  I 
thought  then  and  do  yet.  I  buried  him.  But  I  can 
not  for  the  life  of  me  remember  the  man's  name  in 
whose  house  he  had  the  room.  Possibly  I  have  it 
among  my  papers  of  the  year  1856  or  1857.  I  will  see 
to-morrow.  But  at  all  events  I  can  go  direct  to  the 
house." 

"After  so  many  years?"  asked  Dick  incredulously. 

"After  so  many  years,"  replied  Mr.  Stanton  posi 
tively.  "My  memory  for  localities  never  fails  me; 
for  names  and  figures  it  does.  However,  I  passed 
through  MacDougall  Street  about  a  year  ago,  and  the 
whole  Dugdale  incident  was  recalled  to  me  by  recog 
nizing  the  house." 

"Then  we  may  be  able  to  learn  something  if  we  can 
trace  back  the  tenants,"  said  Dick  hopefully. 


3°  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

*'I  can  help  you  in  this,  for  my  experience  in 
searching  titles  of  property  will  be  of  value  to  you.  I 
will  go  to  town  with  you  to-morrow.  You  say  you  are 
in  the  employ  of  neighbor  Hetlow?" 

Dick  replied  he  was. 

"Your  name  is  Mason,  you  say?"  pursued  the  old 
man. 

"Yes,"  replied  Dick. 

"Anything  to  Thomas  Mason  who  was  once  in  the 
shipping  business  in  New  York?" 

"A  nephew,  and  adopted  by  him,"  replied  Dick. 

"I  knew  him.  Was  his  counsel  in  his  business 
days.  He  adopted  you  to  inherit  his  property.  But 
you  didn't  inherit  anything,  did  you?" 

Dick  could  not  refrain  from  laughing  over  the  blunt 
directness  of  the  old  lawyer,  as  he  replied: 

"No,  sir;  Uncle  Thomas — father  as  I  called  him — 
died  practically  without  property." 

"I  know  all  about  it,"  said  Mr.  Stanton.  "I  man 
aged  to  save  a  little  for  the  widow — very  little — enough 
to  keep  her — if  she  didn't  live  too  long.  Is  she  alive 
or  dead?" 

"Dead,  sir,"  replied  Dick.  "She  died  two  years 
ago.  She  lived  long  enough  for  me  to  show  in  a  prac 
tical  way  that  I  was  grateful  for  the  kindness  she  and 
Uncle  Tom  had  shown  an  orphan  from  his  babyhood." 

"Her  money  gave  out  before  she  died  then?" 

"Yes,  sir,  but  I  was  earning  some." 

"Good  boy!  Good  boy!  I  suppose  you  will  stop 
with  Hetlow  to-night?" 

"No,"  replied  Dick,  with  a  peculiar  smile,  "I  shall 
not.  I  will  call  upon  him,  for  I  think  he  should  know 
that  his  neighbor  holds  the  key  to  our  future  progress. 
But  since  you  will  go  to  town  with  me  to-morrow,  I 
will  stop  in  the  village  overnight." 

"No,  you  shan't  do  that.     You  shall  stop  here. 


THE  FIRST  STEP.  31 

Go  over  and  make  your  call,  and  be  back  at  sharp  six. 
I  don't  like  to  wait  for  my  meals." 

Dick  yielded,  and  went  over  to  the  Hetlow  house 
by  a  short  cut,  pointed  out  from  the  piazza  by  Mr. 
StaatoE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A     GOOD     FRIEND. 

THE  path  called  by  Mr.  Stanton  the  short  cut  was 
well  worn,  and  Dick  found  little  trouble  in  following 
it.  He  had  never  visited  the  country-place  of  Mr. 
Hetlow.  Having  received  a  delicate  and  well  guarded 
hint,  in  the  past,  that  it  was  hardly  the  proper  thing  for 
a  clerk  to  seek  to  enter  his  employer's  house  upon 
terms  of  social  equality,  and  which,  in  his  conceit,  he 
had  attributed  to  a  desire  to  separate  him  from  Bessie, 
Dick  determined  he  would  make  the  call  with  all  the 
ceremony  he  could.  To  reach  the  main  entrance  he 
was  compelled  to  follow  the  paths  which  led  by  the 
south  elevation  of  the  dwelling  and  past  the  windows 
of  the  apartments  dedicated  to  the  occupancy  of  the 
daughter  of  the  house.  It  so  happened  that  at  the 
exact  moment  he  was  passing,  the  daughter  of  the 
house  was  gazing  from  the  window  in  gloomy  discon 
tent.  It  was  with  sensations  she  could  not  have 
analyzed  had  she  tried,  that  she  recognized  Dick's 
manly  form,  following  the  winding  paths  the  land 
scape  gardener,  with  strict  adherence  to  the  Hogarth- 
ian  rule,  had  laid  down.  As  a  matter  of  fact  she  did 
not  stop  to  analyze  them  but  hurried  out  to  determine 
whether  he  had  had  the  audacity  to  seek  her  in  so 
bold  a  way. 

What  she  did  learn  was  that  Dick  asked  for  her 
father  as  he  was  turned  into  the  reception  room,  and 
she  heard  the  servant  reply  that  he  would  see  whether 
Mr.  Hetlow  was  in  the  house.  She  knew  her  father 

32 


A  GOOD  FRIEND.  33 

would  not  be  in  for  an  hour,  and,  by  a  quick  flank 
movement  she  intercepted  the  servant  so  that  she  could 
receive  the  card  and  thus  have  an  excuse  for  going  to 
Dick. 

Dick  was  not  unprepared  for  her  appearance.  So 
strong  was  the  hope  that  accident  might  favor  him, 
that  he  persuaded  himself  it  would,  and  he  recognized 
the  swish  of  her  skirts  as  she  came  up  the  hall.  But 
he  was  not  prepared  for  the  manner  of  his  reception — 
for  the  studied  air  of  dignity  and  coldness  with  which 
she  greeted  him. 

The  last  time  he  had  seen  her,  barely  a  week  pre 
vious,  she  had  been  gracious,  and  he  tender.  The 
idea  crossed  his  mind  that  she  thought  he  had  been 
too  tender  and  was  now  resenting  it.  She  waved  him 
to  a  seat  and  sank  into  another  upon  the  opposite  side 
of  the  room. 

"This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,  Mr.  Mason,"  she 
said  coldly.  "I  supposed,  at  this  time  of  the  year, 
gentlemen  were  confined  to  the  city  by  business." 

Dick  thought  he  detected  something  in  the  speech, 
indicating  that  it  had  been  purposely  left  incomplete 
and  would  be  finished  only  by  the  words  "especially 
when  they  are  clerks." 

Being  a  young  man  of  spirit  he  resented  the  implied 
significance  and  replied  with  equal  dignity  and  coldness: 

"True.  Gentlemen  engaged  in  business — especially 
when  they  are  clerks — have  not  freedom  at  this  time 
of  the  year." 

Haughtiness  was  not  Bessie's  intention.  She 
thought  the  readiness  with  which  Dick  had  been  will 
ing  to  undertake  the  search  for  a  young  man,  who,  if 
found,  would  make  the  Dugdale  fortune  impossible  to 
her,  argued  an  indifference  to  her  interests  quite 
remote  from  his  protestations,  and  she  wanted  to  make 
him  feel  that  she  resented  the  difference  between  his 
acts  and  his  professions.  But  now  she  in  her  turn 


34  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

took  umbrage  at  the  significance  with  which  he  had 
invested  her  little  speech  and  the  proud  humility  with 
which  he  had  reminded  her  he  was  her  father's  clerk. 

The  two  young  people  had  begun  badly,  and  she 
was  compelled  to  make  an  effort  before  she  could 
reply,  with  apparent  indifference: 

"You  are  more  fortunate  than  the  rest." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  he  replied  coldly.  "I  am 
here  on  business — to  see  your  father  upon  a  matter  I 
have  in  charge  from  him." 

"Ah,  yes,"  she  said,  "I  had  forgotten.  Father  will 
soon  return.  It  must  be  tiresome,  this  search.  Will 
you  find  the  young  man?" 

The  art  with  which  she  seemed  to  make  an  effort 
to  conceal  her  weariness  was  delicious.  Dick  was 
startled  by  her  question.  He  thought  Mr.  Hetlow 
would  not  tell  Bessie  until  the  search  had  ended.  He 
showed  his  confusion  and  she,  noting  it,  enjoyed  it. 

"Your  father  then  has  told  you?"  he  asked  quite 
stupidly. 

"Why  should  he  not?  He  is  interested  in  his 
daughter's  prospects,  if  other  people  are  not." 

This  was  said  with  head  bent  over  the  fan  at  which 
she  was  picking,  but  from  the  corners  of  her  eyes  she 
was  keenly  observing  the  effect  of  the  thrust. 

"Yes,"  she  continued,  "he  has  told  me,  and  that 
you  are  commissioned  to  make  the  search  for  the  miss 
ing  young  man.  I  hope  it  is  progressing." 

"It  is  barely  begun,"  he  replied,  now  keenly  alive 
to  the  fact  that  she  was  resenting  the  making  of  the 
search,  though  he  could  not  realize  that  it  was  only 
because  he  was  making  it. 

"Oh!      Have  you  prospects  of  success?" 

"Success?  Please  explain.  It  might  be  success  to 
fail,  failure  to  succeed." 

This  was  too  enigmatical  to  please  the  young  lady, 
nor  was  she  pleased  either  with  the  tone  in  which  it  was 


A  GOOD  FRIEND.  35 

said  nor  the  smile  accompanying  it.  Dick,  finding  he 
had  confused  her,  felt  decidedly  better  and  ventured 
another  remark. 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  success  or  failure  with  me." 

"No,"  she  quickly  replied;  "a  matter  of  indiffer 
ence  as  to  the  consequence." 

Dick  stared  at  her,  and  continued : 

"I  am  directed  by  your  father  to  make  an  energetic 
search  for  the  young  man  and  I  do  it,  as  I  hope  I  do 
other  things  falling  to  my  duty,  with  all  the  ability  I 
can  command." 

"Without  regard  to  friend  or  foe,"  she  said. 

Dick  bowed  in  acquiescence. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  that  is  the  chivalry  of  the  nine 
teenth  century.  One  may  sometimes  regret  one  falls 
upon  such  coldly  civilized  times,"  she  replied. 

Dick,  stung  by  her  manner,  proceeded  in  a  manlike 
fashion  to  blunder.  He  thought  she  was  annoyed 
because  any  search  at  all  was  being  made,  and  he  won 
dered  why  a  girl,  who  already  had  all  the  money  she 
could  require,  could  show  such  desire  for  more. 
Under  the  influence  of  this  thought,  he  said: 

"If  the  young  man  lives  the  fortune  should  be  his, 
and  justice,  as  your  father  sees  it,  demands  it  should 
be  given  him." 

The  young  lady  straightened  up,  bent  a  look  upon 
him  sharp  and  angry,  and  rose  to  her  feet. 

"You  are  insolent,"  she  said. 

"If  I  am,  I  crave  your  pardon.  Such  was  not  my 
intent." 

"You  seek  to  rebuke,"  she  replied. 

Dick  had  risen  from  his  chair,  not  a  little  alarmed 
at  the  effect  produced  by  his  words,  which  were  rather 
the  expression  of  his  thoughts  than  a  speech  addressed 
to  her.  With  a  low  bow,  he  answered: 

"I  cannot  so  far  forget  myself  as  to  attempt  to 
rebuke  the  daughter  of  Howard  Hetlow." 


3*  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Bessie  was  now  thoroughly  angry.  Why  would  he 
so  persistently  force  on  her  the  fact  that  he  was  her 
father's  clerk. 

"  Why  don't  you  add  'my  employer?'  "  she  demanded 
angrily. 

"My  employer,"  obediently  added  Dick. 

This  prompt  compliance  did  not  mend  matters. 
With  a  contemptuous  ejaculation  she  walked  to  the 
other  end  of  the  room,  turned,  swept  to  the  window, 
through  which  she  gazed  a  moment.  Suddenly  she 
faced  him. 

"I  do  not  know  why  I  should  be  insulted  in  my 
own  house." 

Dick  was  no  less  angry  than  she,  but  he  was  under 
better  control.  And  it  needed  all  his  self-control  to 
repress  the  angry  retort  which  leaped  to  his  lips.  He 
held  his  peace,  looking  sternly  at  her.  When  he  did 
reply  it  was  with  a  dignity  of  manner  and  an  emphasis 
of  tone  which  challenged  her  admiration,  angry  as  she 
was. 

"Miss  Hetlow,"  he  said.  "When  you  have  time 
to  review  this  conversation,  you  will  acquit  me  of  any 
insult,  or  attempt  at  insult." 

"You  charge  me  with  wishing  to  seize  this  property 
whether  I  have  a  right  to  it  or  not,"  she  replied  hotly. 

"I  am  not  aware  that  any  words  spoken  by  me  this 
afternoon  can  be  so  construed,"  he  answered  firmly. 

"If  your  words  did  not  convey  that  meaning  your 
manner  did,"  she  replied  sharply.  "And  that  has 
been  most  offensive." 

Dick  was  very  irritating.  He  was  so  calmly  supe 
rior,  and  so  entirely  polite,  that  he  evaded  the  coming 
to  close  quarters  she  so  much  desired,  and  therefore 
she  determined  to  force  the  war. 

"Do  you  suppose  I  want  these  millions?"  she  asked. 
"That  I  long  for  them?  Dream  of  them  of  nights  and 
hug  the  idea  of  their  possession  with  pleasure  by  day? 


A  GOOD  FRIEND.  37 

that  I  so  desire  them  that  I  would  deprive  the  rightful 
owner?" 

"God  forbid,"  answered  Dick  fervently. 

"Answer  me?"  she  demanded.  "Am  I  so  merce 
nary,  so  avaricious,  that  you  think  I  would  commit 
crime  to  obtain  them?  Is  that  your  opinion  of  me?" 

"I  do  not  think  you  are  either  mercenary  or  avari 
cious " 

He  stopped  short,  holding  his  voice  in  suspense,  not 
as  if  he  had  ended  a  sentence,  but  rather  as  if  he  had 
suddenly  checked  himself,  and  endeavored  to  appear 
as  if  he  completed  it. 

"But  what,  sir?"  she  demanded  imperiously. 
"You  are  not  frank.  Finish  your  sentence,  please." 

"I  was  about  to  add  that  I  could  quite  well  under 
stand  that  a  young  lady,  dazzled  by  the  sudden  vision 
of  almost  boundless  wealth,  could,  without  being 
charged  with  being  mercenary  or  avaricious,  desire 
that  events  should  turn  in  her  favor." 

"Oh,"  she  said,  with  an  evident  sneer,  "you  are 
lenient  in  your  opinions  of  our  sex.  I  have  no  desire 
for  that  fortune.  Do  you  believe  it?  It  is  true. 
Never,  from  the  moment  my  father  revealed  the  pos 
sibilities,  have  I  desired  its  possession.  And  I  hope 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  you  will  find  the  young 
man  Dugdale." 

Never  in  all  her  life,  thought  Dick,  was  she  ever  so 
admirable  as  then,  when  with  flashing  eyes  and  height 
ened  color,  she  stood  erect  before  him,  repelling  the 
imputation  she  perversely  attributed  to  him.  Perhaps 
she  perceived  his  very  evident  admiration,  for  the 
color  deepened  in  her  face,  as  she  said: 

"However,  this  fortune  has  served  to  show  me  my 
fair-weather  friends." 

She  waited  for  a  reply,  and  so  Dick  said: 

"I  am  afraid  I  do  not  comprehend  that  remark." 

She  bent  a  look  of  deep  scorn  upon  him  and  said: 


38  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"Look  for  its  meaning  in  your  own  readiness  to 
undertake  a  search  which,  if  successful,  will  deprive 
me  of  Samuel  Dugdale's  money." 

She  swept  him  a  deep  courtesy,  and  after  saying  that 
her  father's  presence  would  not  be  long  delayed, 
marched  with  stately  tread  out  of  the  room. 

Dick  stared  after  her  utterly  dumfounded  and  com 
pletely  mystified  by  the  contradiction  involved  by  her 
parting  shot.  He  sat  himself  down,  but  thought  that 
after  the  scene  with  the  daughter  he  did  not  care  to 
see  the  father,  and  so  he  left  the  house.  He  went 
back  to  the  Stanton  residence  by  the  path  he  had 
come,  past  the  windows  of  the  apartments  of  the 
daughter  of  the  house,  but  this  time  the  daughter  of 
the  house  was  not  gazing  from  the  windows ;  she  was 
lying  upon  a  sofa,  her  head  buried  in  her  arms,  and 
her  breast  torn  and  heaving  with  sobs. 

The  Stanton  family  was  awaiting  him,  and  when  he 
was  presented  to  Wallis,  he  was  claimed  as  an  old 
acquaintance  by  that  young  lady,  since  they  had  met 
more  than  once  in  the  city.  During  the  meal  he  was 
distracted  and  could  only  with  difficulty  bear  his  part 
in  the  conversation — a  fact  which  did  not  escape  the 
keen  observation  of  Miss  Gladwin.  When  they  rose 
from  the  table,  Wallis  insisted  upon  taking  Dick  for  a 
stroll  about  the  grounds  before  darkness  fell. 

"You  were  received  by  my  aunt,  I  think,"  said 
Wallis,  as  they  strolled  about. 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Stanton  kindly  met  me,"  replied  Dick, 
not  quite  certain  whether  Wallis  was  making  an  effort 
to  learn  the  nature  of  that  reception. 

"She  thought  she  could  serve  you  quite  as  well  as 
uncle?" 

"She  said  perhaps  she  could,"  replied  Dick  diplo 
matically. 

And  was  quite  anxious  to  know  the  nature  of  the 
you  had  -with  uncle, ' '  persisted  Wallis. 


A  GOOD  FRIEND.  39 

"She  manifested  some  curiosity  as  to  it,"  replied 
Dick  again  gravely. 

By  this  time  he  perceived  that  Wallis  was  vainly 
endeavoring  to  repress  her  laughter. 

"Poor  aunt!  She  is  desolated  to-night  for  fear  she 
made  an  exhibition  of  herself,  and,  wanting  sympathy, 
confided  all  to  me." 

She  broke  into  a  hearty  peal  of  laughter  in  which 
Dick  joined  from  sheer  sympathy,  so  contagious  was  it. 

"I  think  I  shall  go  into  convulsions  when  I  picture 
to  myself  poor  aunt's  demands,  and  your  bewilder 
ment.  It  is  just  too  funny  for  anything.  Poor  aunt! 
She  is  absurdly  jealous  of  uncle  and  not  the  slightest 
cause  exists  for  it.  She  loves  him  so  much  herself 
that  she  thinks  everyone  else  must  see  him  as  she 
does.  You  must  know,  she  is  the  best  soul  in  the 
world,  but  she  is  a  firm  believer  in  dreams  and  for 
tune-telling  by  the  cards,  and  when  she  thought  you 
were  not  telling  her  the  truth,  she  says  she  went  into 
another  room  and  drew  the  cards  that  told  her  you 
had  called  about  a  heart  woman  who  was  associated 
with  uncle,  and  last  night  she  had  had  a  dream  that 
foretold  it." 

"I  saw  her  go  into  the  other  room  and  do  some 
thing  with  the  cards,"  said  Dick,  highly  amused. 

"Oh,  that  is  too  good,"  laughed  Wallis  again. 
"She  thinks  you  did  not." 

Wallis  was  again  convulsed  with  laughter,  and  Dick, 
now  comprehending  the  whole  of  the  strange  scene, 
laughed  heartily  with  her.  But  Wallis  turned  sud 
denly  on  him. 

"You  must  not  laugh  at  her;  it  is  her  only  weak 
ness  and  is  lost  sight  of  in  her  many  excellences. 
Did  you  call  upon  Mr.  Hetlow  this  afternoon?" 

"Yes,"  briefly  replied  Dick,  becoming  suddenly 
sober. 

"Did  you  see  him?" 


4°  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"No." 

"You  are  not  responsive  at  all.     Who  did  you  seer' 

"Miss  Hetlow." 

"That  was  pleasant.  She  was  agreeable  as  she 
always  is,  of  course?" 

"She  was  somewhat  singular  in  her  manner,  1 
thought,"  replied  the  cautious  Dick. 

"In  what  way?" 

"Very  cold  and  haughty." 

Wallis  looked  at  him  very  sharply,  and  then  said 
with  an  abruptness  that  startled  Dick: 

"Mr.  Mason,  I  said  the  other  day  that  I  was  your 
friend  and  meant  that  you  should  know  it.  And  I 
am,  too." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Dick,  smiling.  "I  accept  the 
friendship  and  pledge  mine  in  return." 

"Now  that's  nice,  and  I  will  be  your  good  friend. 
Do  you  know  why  I  am?" 

"I  suppose  I  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  impress 
myself  favorably  upon  you." 

"Poh!  Conceited  like  all  the  rest  of  the  men. 
No!  Because  you  are  like  me — poor." 

"Oh!" 

"Yes.  I  have  a  great  sympathy  for  poor  young 
men — a  great  deal  more  than  I  have  for  poor  young 
girls." 

"I  should  think  it  would  be  quite  the  other  way." 

"Certainly  not.  A  poor  girl  can  marry  a  rich  young 
man.  They  are  easily  caught.  I  shall  do  it  when  the 
time  comes.  Any  girl  can  learn  how.  But  a  poor 
young  man  is  so  abominably  proud — that  is  if  he  is 
worth  having — so  disgustingly  proud  that  he  will  not 
sue  for  the  hand  of  a  rich  girl,  lest  he  be  called  a  for 
tune  hunter.  That's  why  he  is  an  object  of  sympathy. 
He  actually  compels  a  rich  girl  to  make  love  to  him  or 
go  without  him.  You  have  had  a  row  with  Bess." 

The  suddenness  with  which  she  arrived  at  this  exact 


A  GOOD  FRIEND.  41 

truth  fairly  took  his  breath  away,  and  not  knowing 
how  to  reply,  he  said  nothing.  This  did  not  prevent  the 
vivacious  Wallis  from  demanding  to  know  all  that  had 
occurred,  and  by  dint  of  questioning  and  guessing  she 
finally  obtained  a  circumstantial  account  of  the  epi 
sode,  which  involved  the  telling  of  the  tale  of  the 
Dugdale  millions.  When  she  had  learned  all,  she  was 
silently  thoughtful.  Finally  she  said: 

"I  did  not  think  you  could  be  so  stupid." 

Somewhat  offended,  Dick  replied. 

"I  am  noted  for  my  density  and  it  serves  me  well 
now,  for  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"You  ought  to  have  seen  at  once  that  this  great 
promise  of  money  had  not  altered  her  one  whit." 

"She  did  show  a  great  change  of  manner  neverthe 
less." 

"Why,  you  are  a  perfect  ninny!  Can  you  not  see 
what  it  was  all  due  to?" 

"I  am  very  dense,  you  know;  but  I  do  not  know, 
unless  she  is  angry  with  me  because  I  am  trying  to  find 
a  man,  who,  if  found,  deprives  her  of  a  fortune." 

"Precisely." 

"Well,  then  I  am  not  such  a  ninny  after  all." 

"Yes,  you  are.  It  isn't  the  possible  loss  of  the 
money.  You  have  been  friends.  You  have  shown 
each  other  that  you  liked  each  other,  if  nothing  more. 
She  thinks  however  that  at  the  first  request,  without 
any  thought  of  her,  whether  it  will  serve  her  or  not, 
you  go  out  on  that  search.  It  is  your  willingness  to 
do  that  which  the  world  would  call  an  unfriendly  act. 
She  expected  you  to  say,  'Let  some  one  else  do  this.'  * 

A  glimmering  of  light  broke  upon  the  horizon  of 
Dick. 

"Oh,  I  see." 

"Of  course  you  do  when  you  are  told." 

"But  she  is  quite  right,"  said  Dick.  "I  don't 
want  her  to  have  the  fortune." 

"Now  why,  for  Heaven's  sake!" 


42  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"Because — because  I  fear  the  effect  so  much  money 
will  have  on  her  nature,  and " 

"And  what?" 

"You  say  you  are  my  friend.  I  will  confess  to  you. 
I'm  desperately  in  love  with  Miss  Hetlow,  and  the 
more  money  she  has,  the  further  out  of  my  reach  she 
goes.  It's  downright  selfish,  I  know — wretchedly 
selfish  if  you  will  have  it,  but  there  it  is;  and  I'll  break 
my  back  to  find  that  Dugdale." 

"You're  a  duck  of  a  man.  Leave  it  to  me;  I'll  clear 
the  atmosphere.  Let  us  go  into  the  house.  Uncle  will 
be  growing  impatient  and  must  be  tired  by  this  time  of 
the  beautiful  blonde  in  the  red  shawl." 

Dick  suffered  himself  to  be  led  back,  feeling 
strangely  happy  without  quite  knowing  why. 


CHAPTER  V. 

SIGNOR    BARBERINI. 

IN  the  seclusion  of  the  room  assigned  him  as  a 
sleeping  apartment,  Dick  reviewed  the  events  of  the 
day. 

The  singular  attitude  of  Bessie  toward  him  engrossed 
much  of  his  thought.  Beside  an  open  window  in  an 
easy-chair  en  deshabille,  with  lighted  cigar,  he  endeav 
ored  to  reason  to  a  determination.  After  his  talk  with 
Wallis,  he  had  experienced  a  sensation  of  elation. 
Upon  consideration,  however,  that  sensation  faded 
away.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to  a  belief  that 
Wallis's  interpretation  of  Bessie's  strange  manner  and 
conduct  'was  the  true  one.  He  recalled  Bessie's 
words,  manner,  and  expression,  and  tried  to  square 
them  with  the  meaning  Wallis  put  upon  them  and  failed. 
The  trouble  was  he  sought  to  judge  Bessie's  treatment 
of  himself  by  masculine  standards.  Result — a  mud 
dle  and  a  fixed  error. 

If,  he  argued,  Bessie  were  angry  with  him  because 
he  had  undertaken  the  search,  for  the  reason  Wallis 
gave,  why  did  she  not  say  so  directly,  and  charge  him 
openly  with  unfriendliness.  As  if  a  bludgeon  was  a 
woman's  weapon!  He  would  have  done  so  had  their 
positions  been  reversed,  was  his  blundering  conclusion. 

With  that  fatuity  of  a  man  who  had  never  been 
tested  and  tried  by  the  close  associations  with  the 
subtleties  and  indirections  of  the  feminine  mind,  he 
satisfied  himself  that  there  were  too  many  irreconcil 
able  points,  for  him  to  accept  Wallis's  interpretation. 
If  she  were  angry  with  him  only  because  she  thought 


44  THE  DVGDALE 

he  failed  in  devotion  to  her,  why  did  she  so  persist 
ently  show  him  the  difference  between  her  father's 
daughter  and  her  father's  clerk?  If  she  was  fond 
of  him  why  did  she  say  so  many  cutting  and  con 
temptuous  things?  Why,  if  she  felt  the  fondness  for 
him  Wallis  insisted,  did  she  seek  to  wound  him?  It 
was  not  the  way  of  the  world  for  people  to  hurt  those 
of  whom  they  were  fond.  The  truth  was,  and  he 
regretted  he  was  forced  to  the  conclusion,  that  the 
possibility  of  so  much  wealth  had  inflamed  Bessie's 
imagination,  and  opened  up  to  her  visions  of  a  bril 
liant  existence,  in  ranks  of  life  not  before  entertained 
in  her  dreams,  and  while  under  their  early  influence, 
she  had  seized  the  first  opportunity  to  make  clear  to 
him,  the  gulf  which  existed  between  a  struggling  clerk 
and  an  heiress  to  untold  millions.  So  he  threw  his 
cigar  away  and  went  to  bed,  very  sore  and  unhappy. 

Mr.  Stanton  accompanied  Dick  to  the  city  the  next 
morning.  When  they  parted  on  arrival,  the  old  law 
yer  set  out  upon  the  task  of  finding  the  name  of  the 
tenant  of  the  MacDougall  Street  house  at  the  time  of 
Edmund  Dugdale's  death,  and  Dick  went  to  his  office 
in  Cliff  Street. 

On  entering,  the  first  object  to  meet  his  eyes  was  a 
shabbily  dressed  old  man,  whose  appearance  adver 
tised  his  want  of  prosperity.  A  clerk  informed  Dick 
that  the  stranger  wanted  to  see  him.  Wondering  what 
so  disreputable  an  old  person  could  want  with  him, 
Dick  asked  his  visitor  his  business. 

"I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Richard  Mason,"  said  the  old 
man  rising,  and  removing  his  hat  with  an  attempt  at 
jauntiness  which  struck  Dick  as  oddly  incongruous. 

Assuring  him  that  he  saw  what  he  wished  to  see, 
Dick  again  asked  him  his  business. 

The  old  man,  reseating  himself  and  laying  his  bat 
tered  hat  carefully  upon  the  floor  with  his  walking 
stick  over  it,  deliberately  took  from  an  inner  pocket  a 


S/GA-OA'   BARBERNL  45 

wallet,  which  he  opened  with  trembling  fingers.  After 
fumbling  over  a  number  of  well  worn  and  dirty  papers 
he  extracted  a  slip  cut  from  a  newspaper,  which  he 
extended  to  Dick,  asking: 

"Are  you  the  gentleman  as  put  that  into  the  news 
papers?" 

It  was  the  advertisement  asking  for  communication 
with  anyone  having  knowledge  of  Edmund  Dugdale. 

"Yes,"  Dick  answered,  with  a  sudden  increase  of 
interest  in  the  old  man.  "Have  you  any  knowledge 
of  Dugdale?" 

"I  knew  him  when  he  was  alive." 

'  'I  want  to  know  all  I  can  learn  of  him, ' '  said  Dick, 
as  he  drew  up  a  chair,  and  seated  himself  beside  his 
visitor. 

"For  what  purpose,"  asked  the  old  man, turning 
shrewd  eyes  upon  Dick. 

To  reveal  his  purpose  was  not  Dick's  intention, 
yet  he  could  not  let  the  first  chance  for  obtaining  the 
knowledge  he  sought  that  presented  itself  slip  from 
him.  A  rapid  survey  of  the  old  man's  appearance 
determined  his  course,  so  he  said  imperiously: 

"My  purpose  is  my  own.  I  want  to  know  the  life 
led  by  Edmund  Dugdale  and  the  names  of  the  people 
with  whom  he  associated  in  this  city.  If  you  have 
such  knowledge  I  will  pay  for  it.  If  you  have  not, 
you  have  no  wares  to  sell  me." 

Laughing  slyly  to  himself,  as  if  well  pleased  with  his 
own  shrewdness,  while  his  hand  played  over  his  chin, 
white  with  a  stubble  growth  of  many  days,  the  old  man 
answered: 

"I  can  hit  it  close.  It's  about  the  money  left  by 
Samuel  Dugdale,  the  great  Lunnon  merchant." 

Startled  by  the  answer  Dick  showed  his  surprise,  to 
the  great  amusement  of  the  old  man. 

"Oh!"  he  cried,  "then  you  know  something  as  to 
the  antecedents  of  Dugdale?" 

"A  little,  a  little,"  replied  the  old  man,  with  an  air 


4  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

of  importance,  as  he  settled  himself  more  comfortably 
in  his  chair.  "I  knew  him  in  Lunnon  and  New 
York — when  he  was  rich  and  gay  in  Lunnon,  and 
poor  and  miserable  in  New  York.  I  will  tell  all  I 
know.  I  am  a  poor  man  and  will  leave  it  to  your  gen 
erosity  to  say  what  value  my  information  is  to  you." 

Dick  assured  him  that  he  would  be  paid  in  propor 
tion  to  the  value  of  his  communication,  and  that  in  any 
event,  he  would  be  remunerated  for  his  trouble  in  call 
ing.  The  old  man  settled  himself  for  a  long  tale — and 
long  it  was,  filled  largely  with  personal  reminiscences. 
The  facts  however  were  few. 

The  old  man's  name  was  Edward  Barber.  He  had 
been  ballet-master  at  the  Drury  Lane  Theater  in  Lon 
don,  where  he  was  professionally  known  as  Signor 
Barberini.  In  the  corps  over  which  he  presided  was 
Loie  Weller,  whom  Edmund  Dugdale  had  married. 
Signor  Barberini  had  afterward  come  to  New  York  in 
connection  with  the  Italian  Opera.  And  here  he  had 
again  renewed  acquaintance  with  Dugdale,  through 
the  latter's  wife,  who  had  applied  to  him  for  a  place  in 
the  ballet,  since  her  wages  were  necessary  for  the 
support  of  herself  and  husband.  After  Barber  had 
been  taken  sick,  stricken  with  paralysis,  Mrs.  Dugdale 
had  been  very  kind  to  him.  When  he  recovered  he 
went  to  another  city  and,  returning  after  a  year's  ab 
sence,  found  Mrs.  Dugdale  dead,  and  Edmund  strug 
gling  as  best  he  could  with  his  child,  morose  and 
despairing,  refusing  to  apply  to  his  father  for  assist 
ance.  Barber  had  helped  him  then,  and  again  had 
left  the  city  for  a  long  period,  and  when  he  returned 
Dugdale  was  dead.  He  supposed  the  child  had  been 
adopted  by  someone,  since  Edmund  had  talked  a  great 
deal  about  finding  a  good  home  for  it  and  then  putting 
an  end  to  himself. 

"Did  you  know  the  name  of  the  person  with  whom 
he  lodged?"  asked  Dick,  when  the  old  man  had  con 
cluded  the  long  and  rambling  tale. 


SIGNOR  BARBERINI.  47 

"No,  I  don't  believe  I  ever  knew." 

"Do  you  recollect  the  name  of  any  of  Edmund's 
associates,  or  of  his  wife,  in  those  days?" 

"They  hadn't  any.  Edmund  kept  very  much  to 
himself,  and  his  wife — stop!"  he  exclaimed,  interrupt 
ing  himself.  "There  was  one — a  woman — Jennie 
Crandall.  I  brought  her  from  Lunnon  to  look  after 
the  costumes.  Loie,  that  is  Mrs.  Dugdale,  knew  her 
in  the  ballet  in  Lunnon.  They  were  friends." 

"What  has  become  of  her?" 

"I  dunno.  I've  lost  sight  of  her.  She  married  a 
stage  carpenter  named  Tomlinson,  and  he  kept  an  ale 
house  in  Brooklyn  the  last  I  heard  of  him." 

"She  is  not  dead,  then?" 

"That  I  don't  know,  sir.  But  I  think  I  can  find 
out." 

"Do  so,"  said  Dick  rising,  "and  bring  me  the 
information  as  soon  as  you  can.  Here  is  twenty 
dollars  for  what  you  have  told  me,  and  if  you  can  find 
Mrs.  Tomlinson  and  take  me  to  her,  there  will  be 
more  pay." 

Highly  satisfied,  the  old  man  shuffled  away. 

Many  moons  had  waxed  and  waned  since  he  had 
earned  twenty  dollars  in  one  sum.  His  first  impulse 
on  gaining  the  street  was  to  set  out  immediately  in 
search  of  Mrs.  Tomlinson,  but  reflection  deterred  him 
— indeed  sent  him  in  an  entirely  different  direction. 
He  thought  that  a  too  prompt  finding  of  the  woman 
would  cheapen  his  services,  but  that  which  was  influ 
ential  was  purely  of  a  personal  nature. 

For  several  years  Signer  Barberini  had  frequented 
a  certain  drinking  place  on  a  certain  Sixth  Avenue 
corner,  where  his  direct  custom  was  inconsiderable, 
but,  since  he  was  always  willing  to  accept  an  invita 
tion  to  drink,  and  to  entertain  paying  customers  with 
anecdotes  of  theatrical  and  operatic  personages,  a  large 
fund  of  which  he  possessed,  his  indirect  custom  made 
him  a  tolerated  lounger.  Suddenly  possessed  of  a 


48  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

sum  of  money  larger  than  he  had  hoped  for,  with 
brilliant  promises  of  more  to  be  earned  as  easily,  he 
concluded  that,  without  doing  violence  to  his  service 
to  Mr.  Mason,  he  could  indulge  in  the  pleasure,  now 
rare  to  him,  of  appearing  before  the  barkeeper  of  the 
place  he  affected,  and  the  regular  frequenters  thereof, 
as  a  capitalist,  and  thus  regain  some  of  that  respect, 
which  he  was  forced  to  admit  was  lost  to  him  through 
his  inability  to  buy  even  his  morning  cup. 

Poets  may  call  money  dross,  and  moralists  may  call 
it  the  root  of  all  evii,  but  nevertheless  the  average  man 
with  a  few  dollars  in  his  pocket  enjoys  a  sense  of  dig 
nity  utterly  wanting  when  his  pockets  are  empty. 
The  ex-ballet-master  was  an  average  man,  and  on  this 
particular  day  when  he  entered  the  drinking-place, 
there  was  such  dignified  independence,  almost  touch 
ing  haughtiness  in  his  manner,  as  he  walked  across  the 
saloon,  that  the  barkeeper  regarded  him  with  aston 
ishment,  to  the  old  man's  secret  delight.  He  made 
his  way  to  the  rear  of  the  room  and  seated  himself  at 
a  table.  Two  men  were  already  seated  at  this  table, 
who,  by  their  manner  and  their  neglect  in  returning  his 
salutation,  plainly  showed  that  his  companionship 
was  not  welcome.  But  so  positive  was  the  ex-ballet- 
master  that  he  carried  with  him  the  charm  to  open  the 
doors  to  their  favor  that  he  refused  to  observe  their 
coldness,  and  having  heaved  a  sigh,  indicating  that 
rest  after  labor  was  most  comfortable,  said: 

"I  have  been  downtown  on  business — a  long  jaunt 
for  an  old  man.  A  draft  of  good  old  gin  would  rest 
me.  Will  you  join?" 

The  two  men  were  at  no  pains  to  conceal  their  sur 
prise,  but  it  was  not  so  great  as  to  prevent  them  from 
promptly  accepting  the  invitation.  The  Signor — 
"Teddy,"  as  he  was  called  there — did  not  resent  the 
openly  expressed  surprise,  which  he  did  not  fail  to 
observe,  but  with  the  air  of  a  patron  summoned  the 
waiter  to  receive  the  orders. 


SIGNOK  BARBERINI.  49 

His  companions  at  the  table  were  most  dissimilar. 

One  was  possibly  forty  or  forty-five.  His  face, 
clean  shaven,  presented  a  singular  blending  of  force 
and  cunning,  acuteness  and  subtlety,  cruelty  and  char 
acter.  His  eyes  bore  a  shifty  and  haunted  expres 
sion,  and  had  a  curious  trick  of  dropping  before  one's 
gaze,  and  stealthily  lifting  to  look;  his  nose  was  broad 
on  top  and  pinched  at  the  nostrils;  his  lips  were  thin 
and  the  lines  of  his  mouth  ragged;  his  chin  sharp 
and  pointed,  though  his  jaw  was  square  and  angular; 
when  his  hat  was  off,  a  large,  broad  forehead,  over 
which  the  skin  was  tightly  drawn,  out  of  all  proportion 
to  the  rest  of  his  face,  was  seen,  and  there  was  a  strange 
depression  on  the  top  of  his  head.  His  face  was  not 
attractive.  His  hands  were  noticeable — long,  white, 
slender  hands,  with  tapering  fingers,  withal  strong 
muscular  hands,  but  the  most  noticeable  of  all,  was 
his  voice — soft,  low,  and  gentle  in  tones.  He  was 
respectably  clad  in  black.  Rumor  said  he  was  a 
gambler,  but  as  to  that  no  one  about  the  drinking-place 
was  certain. 

The  other  was  his  junior  by  fifteen  or  twenty  years. 
His  appearance  at  first  glance  suggested  that  he  was 
better  than  his  surroundings — that  he  was  accustomed 
to  something  above  a  Sixth  Avenue  barroom.  He 
wore  clothes  in  good  taste,  and  modest  colors  of  the 
latest  fashion,  with  the  air  of  one  who  was  accustomed 
to  them.  Of  easy  manners,  with  handsome  face,  well 
knit  and  graceful  figure,  there  was  a  certain  persistent 
suggestion  of  a  lost  refinement.  Notwithstanding 
all  this,  the  man  of  the  world  would  have  preferred  to 
have  withheld  than  to  have  given  confidence  to  this 
young  man.  He  too  had  the  same  shifty,  haunted 
expression  in  his  eyes,  and  in  addition  an  alertness 
which  apparently  took  the  form  of  constant  suspicion 
always  on  guard. 

Evidently  in  his  old  age  Signer  Barberini  was  not 
choice  as  to  his  associates. 


5©  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"It  is  wonderful,"  remarked  Barber,  in  a  meditative 
tone,  after  he  had  done  the  honors  and  sipped  of  his 
gin  and  water,  "how  things  half  forgotten  come  up." 

The  other  two,  evidently  believing  that  they  were 
to  be  treated  to  one  of  his  tales  of  the  theater,  all  of 
which  they  had  heard,  were  indifferent  to  the  remark. 
Without  heeding  the  yawn  with  which  the  younger 
man  treated  his  beginning,  he  pulled  before  him  a 
copy  of  the  daily  paper  lying  on  the  table  and  search 
ing  it  for  a  while,  finally  pushed  it  before  the  younger 
man  with  his  finger  designating  a  certain  advertisement. 

"Read  it,  Bob,"  softly  demanded  the  older  man. 

With  a  facility  showing  that  he  was  not  wholly 
without  educational  training,  the  young  man  obeyed. 

'  'Anyone,'  "  he  read,  "  'having  information  con 
cerning  Edmund  Dugdale,  who  came  from  England  to 
New  York  City  in  1855,  and  who  lived  in  MacDougall 
Street  in  1857,  and  was  in  that  year  employed  in  the 
business  office  of  the  Courier  and  Inquirer,  or  who 
knew  him  in  those  years,  will  confer  a  favor,  by  com 
municating  with  Richard  Mason,  at  the  office  of  Het- 
low,  Altmount  &  Co.,  No. Cliff  Street.'  " 

The  elder  of  the  two  looked  keenly  at  the  old  man 
for  a  brief  instant,  and  then  said  softly: 

"I  knew  him." 

Barber  regarded  the  speaker  with  severe  displeasure. 

"How  long  ago?"  he  asked,  incredulity  in  his  tones. 

"I  was  a  kid,  and  employed  in  that  newspaper 
office." 

"Oh,  you  were,"  replied  Barber  sarcastically. 
"What  did  you  know  about  him?" 

"Very  little;  nothing  in  fact." 

"I  thought  so,"  remarked  the  old  man,  much  mol 
lified.  "Well,  I  knew  him  well.  What  do  you  sup 
pose  that  means?" 

"Blessed  if  I  know,"  answered  the  younger  man, 
perceiving  the  other,  who  was  stealthily  watching  the 
old  man  from  under  his  brows,  made  no  remark. 


SIGN  OR  BARBERINI.  5 1 

"Millions,"  said  the  ex-ballet-master  unctuously. 
"Millions  upon  millions." 

"What  means  millions?"  asked  the  younger  man 
contemptuously.  "That  'ad'?" 

"Just  that  advertisement,"  answered  the  old  man 
impressively,  proud  that  he  had  something  to  say 
which  enlisted  the  interest  of  the  two  men,  accustomed 
to  treat  him  and  his  remarks  with  contempt.  "I 
knew  Edmund  Dugdale  when  he  was  the  gayest 
young  man  in  Lunnon,  making  the  sovereigns  spin  in 
a  way  to  set  your  head  in  a  whirl;  I  knew  him  when 
he  married  a  girl  in  the  ballet,  and  when  he  was  kicked 
out  for  it  by  his  father,  the  richest  merchant  in  Eng 
land.  Rich  !  Talk  about  Vanderbilt's  money — why, 
Edmund  Dugdale's  father  thirty  years  ago  could  have 
bought  and  sold  three  Vanderbilts." 

"Bah,"  cried  the  younger  man  in  supreme  disgust. 
"What's  this  you  are  giving  us?" 

"The  truth.  And  yet  Edmund  Dugdale  died  in 
this  city  for  want  of  food,  as  his  wife  died  before  him." 

"What  has  all  this  to  do  with  this  'ad'?"  inquired 
the  young  man. 

"Everything.  Samuel  Dugdale's  great  fortune  is 
going  a-begging.  Six  months  ago  I  was  reading  in  a 
Lunnon  paper  that  Samuel  Dugdale  was  dead,  and  it 
went  on  to  say  that  the  business  had  descended  from 
father  and  son  for  near  on  to  two  hundred  years,  but 
now  the  only  son  of  Dugdale  having  died  in  America, 
the  business  and  the  great  fortune  would  go  to  a  dif 
ferent  branch  of  the  family." 

The  younger  man,  tired  of  the  tale,  shifted  his  posi 
tion  in  his  chair.  As  he  did  so  he  caught  a  darting 
look  from  the  other,  accompanied  by  a  sudden  uplift 
ing  of  the  heavy  brows.  He  turned  to  Barber  and 
said  impatiently: 

"Well?" 

"Well,"  continued  the  old  ballet-master,  "here 
comes  the  advertisement  I  showed  you." 


C2  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"You  say  the  son  died  here  in  New  York?" 

"Yes,  in  1857." 

"I  suppose  they  are  trying  to  establish  his  death  for 
a  certainty,  so  the  heirs  can  take  the  property." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.     Edmund  Dugdale  left  a  son." 

"Is  he  dead  too?" 

"That  is  what  the  advertisement  means.  No  one 
knows.  Nine  days  before  Edmund's  death  the  son 
disappeared.  Where?  No  one  knows." 

"Stolen?" 

"No,  I  believe  put  out  for  adoption.  I've  got 
good  reasons  for  supposing  so." 

"And  this  is  an  attempt  to  find  the  child,  alive  or 
dead." 

"That's  it  precisely.  There's  millions  for  the  son 
if  he  is  found  and  big  money  for  the  man  that  finds 
him." 

"How  old  was  the  child  when  the  father  died?" 

"Two  years  old." 

"I  suppose  you  are  going  to  find  the  child  and  make 
the  big  money." 

Although  by  this  time  Barber  had  imbibed  fre 
quently,  his  cunning  had  not  deserted  him.  Perhaps 
the  younger  man's  inartistic  yawn,  so  evidently  an 
affectation  of  weariness,  warned  him  that  he  was  being 
drawn  into  telling  all  he  knew. 

"Me?"  he  cried.  "How  can  1  find  him?  It  is  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago,  and  Edmund  Dugdale  never 
told  anyone  where  he  put  the  child.  There's  no  trac 
ing  the  real  heir." 

The  elder  man  got  up  and  lounged  out  of  the  side 
door.  The  younger  one  argued  with  Barber  upon  the 
possibility  of  finding  the  missing  heir. 

The  elder  man  lounged  back  presently  and  dropped 
into  his  chair.  Then  he  treated  to  drinks  not  once, 
but  two  or  three  times. 

By  and  by,  the  old  ballet-master  struggled  to  his 
feet  and,  somewhat  unsteady  on  his  legs,  went  out, 


SIGNOR  BARBERINI.  S3 

saying  he  had  business  across  town.  After  he  had 
gone,  the  elder  man  got  up  and  again  lounged  to  the 
door,  watching  Barber  as  he  slowly  walked  up  the 
street.  At  the  same  time,  a  man  emerged  from  behind 
the  coal-box  of  a  grocery  on  the  opposite  corner  and 
went  up  the  street,  taking  the  same  direction  as  did 
Barber.  The  elder  man  lounged  back  to  the  table. 

"The  old  fellow  is  flush  to-day,"  he  said  to  the 
young  man. 

"Yes,"  was  the  reply;  "been  staked  for  what  he 
knew  about  Dugdale." 

"He  knew  more  than  he  told  us,"  said  the  elder 
man. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  inquired  the  other  with  inter 
est. 

"I  do.     Who  is  Richard  Mason?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Find  out  right  away." 

Obediently  the  young  man  rose  and  went  out  of  the 
front  door.  In  the  meantime  Barber  pursued  his  way 
across  town,  took  the  elevated  cars  downtown,  got  out 
at  Fulton  Street  and  crossed  to  Brooklyn.  By  a  sin 
gular  coincidence  the  man  who  had  stepped  out  from 
behind  the  coal-box  of  the  grocery  store  had  business 
also  in  Brooklyn  and  crossed  on  the  same  boat  with 
Barber. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A    TALE    AND    A    DISCOVERY. 

THE  directness  with  which  the  disreputable  old  per 
son  had  arrived  at  the  purpose  lying  back  ©f  the 
search  did  not  please  Dick.  He  feared  Barber  would 
endeavor  to  engraft  himself  upon  the  enterprise,  for 
evidently  he  expected  profit  to  arise  out  of  his  know 
ledge.  Dick  would  have  been  less  pleased  had  he 
known  that  the  old  dancer,  with  a  view  to  further  pay 
ments,  had  concealed  several  essential  points:  one  that 
Dugdale  had  informed  him  of  his  relationship  to  Mr. 
Hetlow;  another  that  from  time  to  time,  both  before  and 
after  Dugdale's  death,  Mrs.  Tomlinson  had  cared  for 
the  child,  and  still  another  that  the  child  had  been 
adopted  by  some  person.  The  old  ballet-master  was 
not  a  vicious  person,  but  his  necessities  drove  him 
hard  and  his  mind  was  filled  with  visions  of  a  great 
fortune,  a  small  portion  of  which  he  thought  he  could 
divert  to  himself. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  day  Barber  had  called  on 
Dick,  a  letter  arrived  for  the  latter,  which  however 
was  not  received  by  him  until  the  following  morning. 
It  was  from  the  lawyer,  Mr.  Stanton,  informing  him 
that  he  had  been  successful  in  his  search  for  the 
owner  of  the  property  at  the  time  Dugdale  had  occu 
pied  a  room  under  its  roof,  and  that  he  hoped  in  a 
short  time  to  find  the  name  of  the  person  who  had 
rented  the  house  during  that  year. 

Dick  had  hardly  digested  the  contents  of  this  letter, 
when  Barber  entered  the  office  and  inquired  for  him. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  have  found  Mrs.  Tomlinson, 

54 


A    TALE  AND  A   DISCOVERY.  55 

after  a  good  search  I  can  tell  you.  Her  husband  is 
dead,  but  the  old  ale  house  is  still  in  existence,  kept 
by  the  man  who  bought  it  from  her  after  her  husband's 
death." 

"What  is  her  address?"  sharply  asked  Dick,  cutting 
the  old  man  short  in  the  tale  of  the  search  he  was  pre 
paring  to  give  in  detail. 

To  answer  so  directly  was  not  the  purpose  of  the 
old  man.  Ignoring  Dick's  question,  he  said: 

"Mrs.  Tomlinson  recollects  the  Dugdales  well.  It 
was  she  who  buried  Mrs.  Dugdale  and  took  the  baby 
home  with  her  after  the  funeral.  But  she  thinks  the 
baby  was  adopted  out  by  Mr.  Dugdale,  but  as  she  did 
not  see  much  of  him  after  his  wife's  death,  she  is  not 
clear  on  this  point.  I  don't  believe  we  will  get  much 
out  of  her,  but  in  thinking  this  matter  over " 

"Give  me  her  address,"  demanded  Dick  impera 
tively. 

Dick  was  ruthlessly  destroying  the  schemes  the  old 
man  had  so  laboriously  builded.  Mrs.  Tomlinson  was 
a  sharp  old  woman,  having  little  confidence  in  her 
former  employer.  Therefore  she  had  not  been  at  all 
communicative.  Barber,  appreciating  this,  leaped  to 
the  conclusion  that  she  possessed  information  most 
desirable,  and  used  ail  the  tact  and  diplomacy  he 
could  employ,  but  without  avail.  The  greater  the 
effort  he  put  forth,  the  firmer  became  her  determina 
tion  to  keep  her  own  counsel.  With  a  shrewdness 
superior  to  his  own  she  induced  the  old  ballet-master 
to  tell  that  he  was  making  the  inquiry  on  behalf  of  a 
Mr.  Mason,  who  was  an  agent  of  Mr.  Hetlow.  The 
latter  name  aroused  her  recollections  and  she  recalled 
that  Edmund  Dugdale  had  more  than  once  told  her 
of  his  relationship  to  a  man  of  that  name.  Barber  was 
finally  compelled  to  retire,  but  he  did  so  with  the  de 
termination  to  return  again  to  the  attack,  and  again 
and  again,  until  he  had  finally  succeeded.  But  Dick's 
imperative  ways  were  destroying  his  plans. 


56  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"Give  me  her  address,"  repeated  Dick.  "I  don't 
want  you  to  question  her.  I'll  do  that  myself." 

"No.  Prospect  Street,  Brooklyn."  The  old 

man  was  crushed. 

"Now,"  said  Dick,  pointing  to  a  desk.  "Sit  down 
and  write  a  letter  saying  that  the  bearer  is  the  Mr. 
Mason  on  whose  behalf  you  called  yesterday." 

Overborne  by  Dick's  masterful  ways,  and  influenced 
by  the  fact  that  he  saw  Dick  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket 
and  take  out  a  large  roll  of  bills,  Barber  did  as  he  was 
told.  When  he  had  finished,  Dick  gave  him  a  note 
the  size  of  which  nearly  made  him  faint  with  joy. 

"Now,"  said  Dick,  dismissing  him,  "you  can  con 
tinue  to  serve  me  by  finding  other  people  who  knew 
Dugdale.  Your  information  will  be  paid  for." 

Dick  lost  no  time  in  going  to  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Tomlinson.  When  he  handed  Barber's  letter  to  her 
and  she  read  it,  she  looked  up  with  surprise.  Attrib 
uting  her  surprise  to  a  suspicion  that  he  was  not  the 
person  he  represented  himself  to  be,  he  said: 

"If  that  letter  does  not  assure  you  I  am  the  Mr. 
Mason,  I  have  other  credentials  which  will  prove  my 
identity." 

"It  is  not  that,"  she  responded  quickly,  evidently 
favorably  impressed  by  her  visitor,  "but  I  thought  I 
was  speaking  to  Mr.  Mason  last  night." 

Dick  was  puzzled,  and  asked  her  to  explain. 

"A  gentleman  called  to  see  me  last  night  after 
'Teddy'  Barber  had  been  here,"  she  said,  "and  I 
thought  he  was  Mr.  Mason." 

"Did  he  say  his  name  was  Mason?"  asked  Dick. 

"Why,  when  I  come  to  think  on  it,  I  cannot  say 
that  he  did.  He  asked  me  if  I  was  the  Mrs.  Tomlin 
son  Barber  had  called  on,  on  behalf  of  Mr.  Mason. 
And  so  I  thought  it  must  be  Mr.  Mason,  you  see." 

Dick  was  puzzled  all  the  more.  At  first  he  was 
inclined  to  believe  the  person  was  Mr.  Stanton,  but 
Mrs.  Tomlinson's  description  of  her  caller  disposed  of 


A  TAL&  Attti  A  bisCOVMY.  $7 

that  idea,  even  if  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  that  Mr. 
Stanton  had  no  knowledge  of  Barber,  nor  Barber  of 
Stanton.  He  could  not  imagine  the  meaning  of  it. 
Finally  he  concluded  that  Barber  had  employed  some 
one  to  endeavor  to  draw  out  Mrs.  Tomlinson  after  his 
own  failure. 

"Well,  Mrs.  Tomlinson,"  after  a  moment's  silence, 
"your  caller  was  not  Mr.  Mason,  for  he  is  here  now." 

He  took  some  papers  from  his  pocket  and  handing 
them  to  her,  added  : 

"Here  are  some  papers  which  will  prove  to  you  I  am 
Mr.  Mason.  I  wish  you  would  look  at  them,  for  I 
have  some  questions  to  ask  which  I  very  much  desire 
to  have  answered." 

Mrs.  Tomlinson  returned  them  after  a  careless 
overlooking,  remarking  that  she  was  satisfied  without 
them.  She  had  trusted  to  her  intuitions. 

"Then,"  said  Dick,  '  'we  may  go  on.  But  first  let  me 
ask  the  business  of  the  person  who  called  last  night." 

"He  wanted  me  to  tell  all  I  knew  about  Mr.  Dug- 
dale," 

This  answer  confirmed  Dick  in  his  belief  that  the 
caller  was  an  agent  of  Barber,  and  when  Mrs.  Tom 
linson  went  on  to  say  that  she  told  him  all  she  knew, 
because  she  had  nothing  to  conceal,  and  had  been  con 
trary  with  "Teddy"  because  "Teddy"  had  acted  as 
if  she  were  bound  to  tell  him  everything  because  she 
had  once  been  in  his  employ,  he  was  still  further  con 
vinced  it  was  simply  an  effort  of  the  old  man  to  worm 
into  the  secrets  of  the  case.  So  he  proceeded  to  ques 
tion  Mrs.  Tomlinson  on  the  matters  upon  which  he 
desired  to  be  informed. 

The  greater  part  of  her  recital  was  mainly  confirma 
tion  of  what  he  had  already  learned.  What  was  new 
and  essential  was  that,  after  Mrs.  Dugdale's  death,  she 
had  cared  for  the  child  until  she  was  compelled  to  go 
with  her  husband  to  Boston,  where  he  had  an  engage 
ment  in  a  theater.  Returning  the  next  summer  she 


5  8  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

had  again  cared  for  the  babe.  She  had  found  Dug- 
dale  distressed  and  despairing.  He  talked  of  finding 
a  good  home  for  the  child  and  yielding  it  up,  as  the 
best  thing  he  could  do  for  it.  While  she  had  the 
child  the  second  summer,  Dugdale  suddenly  died,  and 
at  first  she  supposed  the  child  would  fall  to  her  to 
bring  up.  It  was  her  custom  to  spend  a  portion  of 
the  day  in  Union  Square,  where  she  met  a  lady  who 
the  summer  before  had  been  attracted  to  the  child, 
and  who  now  learning  from  Mrs.  Tomlinson  its  home 
less  condition,  expressed  a  desire  to  adopt  it. 

She  had  brought  her  husband  to  Mrs.  Tomlinson 
the  next  day  to  make  the  proposition,  which  was  not  ac 
cepted,  because  Mrs.  Tomlinson  wanted  first  to  consult 
her  husband.  When  the  husband  came  home  it  was 
with  the  announcement  that  they  must  prepare  for  a 
journey  to  Montreal,  where  he  had  taken  an  engage 
ment.  They  concluded  that  the  best  disposition  they 
could  make  of  the  child  was  to  permit  this  lady  to 
take  it,  and  busy  as  her  husband  was  he  went  out  to 
make  inquiries,  which  satisfied  them  that  the  lady  and 
her  husband  were  proper  persons  to  take  the  child. 
As  their  time  was  limited,  and  as  the  people  with  whom 
Dugdale  had  lodged  at  the  time  of  his  death  were 
very  kindly  and  respectable  people,  they  determined 
to  carry  the  child,  with  the  address  of  the  lady  and 
gentleman,  to  them,  and  ask  them  to  attend  to  the 
details  of  its  settlement.  This  had  been  done,  and 
Mrs.  Tomlinson  had  been  subsequently  informed  that 
the  transfer  had  been  accomplished  and  that  the  baby 
was  in  a  good  home.  And  that  was  the  last  she  had 
heard  of  it,  for  when  she  returned,  the  people  in  the 
MacDougall  Street  house  had  moved  away  and  she 
had  lost  all  trace  of  them. 

"Do  you  recollect  the  name?"  asked  Dick. 

"Yes,  it  was  Powers.  None  of  their  old  neighbors 
knew  positively  where  they  had  moved  to,  but  there 
was  a  belief  it  was  to  Newark." 


A    TALE  AND  A  DISCOVERY.  59 

"You  recollect,  of  course,  the  name  of  the  lady  and 
gentleman  who  adopted  the  child?" 

*'No,  I  don't,"  replied  Mrs.  Tomlinson  earnestly. 
"I  carried  the  address  to  Mrs.  Powers,  but  forgot  it 
afterward." 

"Didn't  they  give  the  name  in  the  letter  written  to 
you  at  Montreal?" 

"Yes,  but  that  letter  I  lost.  I've  tried  again  and 
again  to  recall  the  name,  but  it  has  slipped  from  me. 
I  cannot." 

Nothing  Dick  could  do  elicited  anything  more 
from  Mrs.  Tomlinson  essential  to  his  search. 

However  he  felt  that  there  had  been  a  substantial 
advance  made.  The  child  had  not  died.  It  had  been 
adopted  by  someone,  and  the  name  of  the  person 
through  whom  the  adoption  was  made  had  been  ob 
tained.  So  asking  Mrs.  Tomlinson  not  to  inform 
Barber  of  the  purpose  of  his  search,  which  he  had 
revealed  to  her,  he  left  her  and  returned  to  New  York. 

On  arriving  at  his  office  he  found  another  letter 
from  Mr.  Stanton,  telling  him  that  the  old  lawyer  had 
an  important  fact  to  communicate,  and  that  Wallis  had 
charged  him  with  delivering  an  important  message,  and 
closed  with  the  wish  that  since  he  had  been  unable  to 
see  him,  Dick  should  run  up  to  Dobbs  Ferry  and 
spend  the  night.  And  so  Dick  hastened  to  take  the 
train.  , 

Wallis  was  not  at  home  when  he  arrived.  She  had 
gone  to  ride  with  Bessie,  not  expecting  him  until  a 
later  hour.  This  was  a  disappointment,  for  though 
his  journey  was  supposed  to  be  wholly  connected  with 
the  search,  yet  his  thoughts  were  more  given  to  the 
misunderstanding  which  had  arisen  between  himself 
and  Bessie.  If  the  truth  were  told  he  was  far  more 
desirous  of  knowing  what  success  had  attended  Wallis 
in  her  efforts  at  clearing  the  atmosphere,  than  he  was 
of  learning  what  the  old  lawyer's  important  communi 
cation  might  be.  Moreover  he  feared  that  Wallis  had 


6o  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

failed  in  the  exercise  of  a  proper  discretion,  and  had 
told  Bessie  of  his  frank  confession  of  his  love  for  her. 
And  he  feared  that  if  Wallis  had  done  so,  Bessie 
would  take  umbrage  at  that.  By  conjuring  up  all 
sort  of  doubts  and  possibilities,  as  lovers  are  so  apt  to 
do  in  that  period  when  hope  and  uncertainty  hold 
equal  sway,  Dick  had  succeeded  in  making  himself 
very  uncomfortable.  On  arriving,  he  found  the  old 
lawyer  seated  upon  the  veranda  overlooking  the  river, 
intent  upon  the  panorama  below. 

"O  Mason!  You  are  earlier  than  I  expected," 
was  Mr.  Stanton's  greeting  as  he  came  down  the  steps 
to  meet  him.  "Powers  was  the  name  of  those  people 
who  lived  in  the  MacDougall  Street  house." 

Dick  laughed  as  he  replied: 

"I  supposed  I  would  give  you  the  news.  I  learned 
that  fact  this  morning." 

"What  more  do  you  know,"  asked  the  lawyer,  much 
interested. 

"Not  a  single  fact  more." 

"Well,  I  know  a  little  more,"  said  the  lawyer,  as  he 
motioned  Dick  to  be  seated  in  one  of  the  cane-bot 
tomed  chairs  on  the  veranda.  "  The  head  of  the  family 
was  named  James.  He  was  a  morocco  finisher.  His 
family  consisted  of  a  wife  and  two  girls — small  ones 
then.  The  MacDougall  Street  house  belongs  to  the 
old  Gadwise  estate,  and  the  man  who  has  had  charge 
of  it  for  thirty  years  has  so  still.  He  has  kept  a  record 
of  all  the  tenants." 

Dick  told  him  of  his  interview  with  Mrs.  Tomlinson. 

"Well,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  having  listened 
closely  to  the  recital,  "well,  certain  facts  are  estab 
lished.  The  child  was  adopted  by  someone  yet  un 
known.  The  chances  are  that  it  is  alive.  The  next 
step  is  to  find  James  Powers.  Here  the  chances  are 
against  you.  Assuming  that  he  was  thirty-five  in 
1857,  he  would  be  over  sixty  years  old  now.  The 
chances  are  largely  that  he  is  dead.  And  his  wife 


A    TALE  AND  A  DISCOVERY.  6r 

also.  You  say  that  Mrs.  Tomlinson  told  you  that 
there  was  a  belief  that  he  had  moved  to  Newark. 
That  is  quite  likely  since  he  was  a  morocco  finisher, 
because  Newark  has  been  for  many  years  a  place 
where  the  leather  industry  flourished.  The  course 
to  pursue  is  to  put  a  man  on  the  track  of  Powers — 
send  him  to  Newark  to  inquire  at  the  morocco  places. 
In  the  meantime  my  people  at  the  office  will  insert 
advertisements  in  the  papers  asking  for  information 
as  to  him.  This  will  be  better  than  for  you  to  do  so, 
because  you  have  had  one  of  a  similar  kind  afloat  for 
some  days.  I  will  see  this  Tomlinson  woman,"  con 
tinued  the  lawyer;  "I  may  get  something  from  her 
you  failed  to  obtain." 

"Perhaps  you  may,"  replied  Dick,  "for  you  are 
trained  in  examination  and  I  am  not ;  but,  to  be  frank, 
I  do  not  think  you  will.  She  is  a  woman  of  a  good 
memory  and  an  orderly  mind.  I  believe  she  gave  me 
all  she  knew." 

"It  may  be  so,"  the  lawyer  returned,  "yet  she  might 
have  said  something  which  escaped  your  attention, 
which,  if  followed  up,  would  have  elicited  something. 
I  don't  suppose  you  asked  her  any  questions,  for 
instance,  about  the  conversation  she  had  with  the 
woman  who  talked  to  the  baby  in  the  Park — whether 
she  talked  at  all  about  herself." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  slight  noise  just  behind 
them  at  the  window,  which  caused  them  both  to  look 
around,  but  as  the  blinds  were  closed  they  saw  nothing. 

"No,"  answered  Dick.  "I  took  it  for  granted  that 
they  talked  only  of  the  baby." 

"That's  just  it,"  said  Mr.  Stanton.  "Yet  it  is  in 
conceivable  that  these  two  women  should  have  talked 
together  on  several  days  without  revealing  something 
of  themselves.  I  think  possibly  I  could  start  her 
memory  to  some  effect.  You  say  this  Toiviinson 
woman  had  the  baby  for  nearly  three  month::  in  the 


62  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"Yes." 

"A  year  old,  then?" 

"Yes." 

"The  next  summer  only  four  weeks?" 

"That  is  all." 

"Two  years  old  then  when  the  Powers  got  posses 
sion  of  it  and  turned  it  over  to  the  woman  who  adopted 
it.  It  ought  not  be  difficult  to  trace  it.  But  let  me 
caution  you  not  to  talk  about  this  part  of  the  affair." 

Dick  imagined  that  he  heard  the  sound  of  labored 
breathing,  but  upon  looking  up  at  the  old  gentleman 
found  him  as  placid  as  a  summer  morning.  So  he 
replied: 

"You  can  rely  upon  my  discretion,  sir." 

At  this  moment  the  roll  of  wheels  upon  the  gravel 
upon  the  drive  at  the  other  side  of  the  house  was 
heard.  The  mingling  of  two  fresh  young  voices  also 
was  heard,  and  Dick  concluded  that  Bessie  and  Wallis 
had  returned  from  their  drive. 

But  as  Mr.  Stanton  made  no  motion  to  rise  Dick 
could  not.  A  moment  later  the  carriage  was  heard  as 
it  rolled  away,  and  Mr.  Stanton  took  up  the  talk  again 
by  saying  he  must  also  see  Barber  and  put  him  through 
a  course  of  sprouts. 

When  Wallis  entered  she  was  met  by  her  aunt,  who 
was  in  a  most  excited  state. 

"I  knew  it,"  she  cried,  as  soon  as  Wallis  stepped 
within  the  door.  "I  knew  I  should  hear  bad  news. 
I  had  a  dream  last  night  and  I  knew  it  would 
come." 

"What  has  come?"  asked  Wallis  anxiously. 

"The  bad  news." 

"But  what  is  it?"  asked  Wallis,  somewhat  alarmed 
as  she  laid  off  her  hat,  going  to  her  aunt. 

"Your  uncle  has  a  baby." 

Wallis  broke  into  a  ringing  laugh,  awakening  the 
echoes  of  the  old  house  and  penetrating  to  the  veranda 
where  Mr,  Stanton  and,  Dick  were  sitting,  filling  the 


A    TALE  AND  A  DISCOVERY.  03 

air  with  its  music.     The  two  men  laughed  together  in 

sympathy. 

"You  may  laugh,"  protested  Mrs.  Stan  ton,  much 
vexed.  "But  it  is  true.  I  heard  him  arranging  for 
its  care." 

"With  whom  indeed?"  laughed  Wallis,  for  she  per 
ceived  that  her  aunt  was  seized  by  one  of  her  fits  of 
unreasoning  jealousy. 

"With  Mr.  Mason.  I  knew  that  young  man  had 
something  to  do  with  it,  when  he  first  came  here." 

"Why,  nonsense,  auntie,"  said  Wallis,  "they  were 
doubtlessly  talking  about  the  young  man  Mr.  Mason 
is  looking  for — the  Dugdale  heir." 

"Do  they  call  n  young  man  who  is  twenty-six  if  he 
is  a  day,  a  baby?"  asked  Mrs.  Stanton  severely. 

"Well,  hardly,''  confirmed  Wallis,  still  unconvinced. 

"Is  a  baby  two  years  old  an  heir  to  the  Dugdale 
property?"  queried  Mrs.  Stanton,  following  up  her 
advantage. 

"No,  I  should  think  not." 

"This  baby  is  two  years  old." 

"Why,  auntie,  how  do  you  know?" 

"Didn't  I  toil  you  I  heard  your  uncle  admit  it? 
Didn't  they  sit  out  on  the  veranda  and  shamelessly 
discuss  it?  Your  uncle  figured  up — the  wretch — and 
said  it  was  t\vo  years  old  this  summer.  And  didn't 
they  both  talk  of  the  baby  having  been  lost?  put  away 
by  its  mother — the  shameless  thing — and  didn't  your 
uncle  beg  Mr.  Mason  to  make  every  effort  to  trace  it? 
And  didn't  I  hear  him  say  he  thought  those  Powers 
had  it?" 

"And  who  are  the  Powers?"  asked  Wallis,  bewil 
dered  by  the  proof  her  aunt  was  piling  up,  yet  still 
certain  and  confident  as  to  the  moral  integrity  of  her 
uncle. 

"How  do  you  suppose  I  should  know?"  demanded 
her  aunt  indignantly.  "If  I  did,  wouldn't  I  goat  once 
and  demand  the  proof  by  which  I  could  forever  shame 


t>4  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

your  imcle  and  confound  him?  Some  of  the  low  peo 
ple  lie  associates  with,  I  suppose,  when  my  eyes  are  not 
upon  him." 

"Oh,  aunt,  you  are  mistaken;  you  have  not  under* 
stood  properly." 

"Have  I  ears?"  asked  the  poor  lady,  highly  wrought 
up  by  the  opposiiion  she  was  meeting  with.  "Have  I 
intelligence?  Can  I  comprehend  what  I  hear?  I'll 
find  out  now  for  the  first  time.  I  have  names.  There 
is  a  Tomlinson,  and  a  Barber  and  a  Powers,  and  a 
detective  to  hunt  for  the  baby.  Oh,  I'll  get  at  the 
bottom  of  it.  Your  uncle  is  going  to  advertise  for  the 
Powers  in  the  papers.  Oh,  I'll  get  at  the  bottom  of 
it.  He  shall  not  escape  me  now  by  his  cunning,  in 
making  it  appear  as  if  I  was  ridiculous!  Oh,  no!  It 
is  the  heart  woman  in  the  red  shawl,  and  I  know  it." 

The  object  of  the  good  woman's  suspicions  put  an 
end  to  her  confidences,  by  appearing  at  the  other  end 
of  the  hall,  and  calling  out  to  Wallis  that  Mr.  Mason 
was  on  the  veranda. 

"Now  Wallis,"  said  Mrs.  Stan  ton  hastily  and  warn- 
ingly,  "be  discreet.  Say  nothing  to  anyone.  I'll 
say  nothing  until  I  get  the  proof.  Go  and  entertain 
Mr.  Mason,  so  that  they  cannot  conspire  further.  I 
will  go  to  see  about  dinner.  When  I  asked  for  a 
decent  carriage,  he  said  I  must  wait  until  next  sum 
mer.  But  the  blonde  woman  in  the  red  shawl,  she 
can  have  anything  she  wants." 

Wallis,  scarcely  able  to  preserve  her  gravity,  assured 
her  aunt  that  at  least  she  would  not  speak  to  Mr. 
Mason  of  the  great  discovery,  and  went  forward  to 
meet  him. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

DISQUIETING     NEWS. 

FROM  the  remarks  made  by  her  uncle,  and  the 
questions  he  asked  Dick,  after  she  appeared  on  the 
veranda,  Wallis  learned  that  progress  had  been  made 
in  the  search,  and  that  her  aunt's  suspicions  were 
wholly  unfounded. 

From  her  Dick  learned  that  Mr.  Hetlow  had  re 
turned  from  the  journey  he  had  gone  upon  the  day 
Dick  was  last  at  Dobbs  Ferry.  With  a  mischievous 
twinkle  in  her  eyes,  she  expressed  the  belief  that  Mr. 
Hetlow  would  be  pleased  to  see  Dick,  and  learn  from 
his  own  lips  the  progress  the  search  was  making,  and 
concluded  by  proposing  that  he  should  accompany  her 
to  call  at  the  Hetlow  mansion,  after  dinner.  To  this 
Dick  made  no  answer,  nor  in  fact  did  he  have  the 
opportunity,  for  Mr.  Stanton  acquiescing  in  the  prop 
osition,  said  he  would  go  with  them,  adding  that  Mr. 
Hetlow  did  not  yet  know  that  he  was  interfering  in  the 
affair,  and  that  it  was  high  time  he  did. 

Dick's  face  was  evidently  the  cause  of  amusement 
to  Wallis.  It  presented  expressions  of  desire,  dislike, 
and  embarrassment,  ludicrously  blended.  He  did  not 
know  how  to  meet  the  situation  forced  upon  him.  He 
could  not  refuse  without  giving  Mr.  Stanton  a  reason, 
and  he  could  not  give  as  that  reason  his  misunder 
standing  with  Bessie.  Wallis  would  not  assist  him, 
but,  upon  the  contrary,  persisted  in  increasing  the 
gravity  of  the  situation,  to  his  evident  distress,  and  her 
Own  amusement,  until  he  began  to  contemplate  a  sudden 
attack  of  illness  as  the  only  way  out  of  the  difficulty. 


66  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Having  extracted  sufficient  entertainment  from  the 
condition  of  the  hapless  young  man,  Wallis  proposed 
a  walk  over  the  tunnel  before  dinner,  to  which  Dick 
eagerly  consented,  since  he  so  much  desired  a  talk 
with  her  alone. 

The  walk  over  the  tunnel  was  one  of  the  treats 
offered  visitors  to  Springhill,  the  old  name  of  the 
Stanton  place. 

Mr.  Stanton' s  land  stretched  out  to  the  river,  to 
which  it  descended  abruptly  by  a  precipitous  range  of 
rock.  Through  this  rock  a  long  tunnel  had  been 
bored  for  the  way  of  the  Hudson  River  Railroad.  At 
the  extreme  end  of  the  bluff  overlooking  the  river,  a 
summer-house  had  been  built,  from  which  a  long  view 
of  the  river,  with  its  floating  craft,  could  be  had. 
From  this  point,  a  rough  wooden  stairway  descended 
to  the  water's  edge,  where  there  was  a  small  boat- 
house,  the  shelter  of  a  light  rowboat  in  which  Wallis 
and  Bessie  had  spent  many  happy  hours,  but  now  rot 
ting  from  neglect  and  disuse.  From  the  south  the 
railroad  tracks  entered  the  tunnel,  through  a  rough 
rock  cutting,  the  sides  of  which  gradually  ran  down 
from  the  face  of  the  tunnel  to  the  level  of  the  tracks. 
From  the  top  of  the  tunnel  opening  to  the  top  of  the 
rock  was  a  distance  of  twenty  or  twenty-five  feet, 
almost  perpendicular.  It  had  not  always  borne  this 
appearance,  but,  as  the  accident  records  of  the  com 
pany  could  show,  many  years  previous,  a  large  amount 
of  rock  had  been  detached  and  had  fallen  upon 
the  track  below,  leaving  its  face  bare  and  ragged. 
As  the  years  had  passed,  small  evergreen  trees 
and  bushes  had  grown  upon  the  ledges  made  by 
the  broken  rocks.  Immediately  over  the  center,  at 
the  extreme  top,  a  large  piece  projected,  and 
this  had  been  guarded  by  a  rail  set  up  by  Mr. 
Stanton,  so  that  one  could  walk  out  in  safety  upon  it 
and  leaning  over,  watch  the  trains  plunge  into  the  tun 
nel,  or  see  them  dash  out  with  their  thundering  noise. 


DISQUIETING  NEWS.  67 

This  was  one  of  the  sights  of  Springhill,  and  to  this 
spot  Wallis  led  Dick. 

As  they  leaned  over  this  railing,  looking  down  upon 
the  tracks,  Wallis  said: 

"You  were  not  pleased  "with  my  suggestion  to  go  to 
the  Hetlows'  to-night." 

"How  could  you  be  so  unkind?"  asked  Dick 
reproachfully.  "Any  meeting  with  Miss  Hetlow  must 
now  be  full  of  embarrassment  for  both  of  us." 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Wallis,  adding  maliciously, 
"you  should  not  have  lost  your  temper." 

"Temper!"  replied  Dick  in  surprise.  "Surely  I 
made  no  display  of  temper!" 

"Bessie  says  you  behaved  in  a  perfectly  outrageous 
manner;  accused  her  of  all  sorts  of  things,  and  I  said 
I  had  no  doubt  of  it." 

Dick  looked  up  at  her,  to  see  the  mischief  dancing 
in  her  dark  eyes,  and  remarked  with  humorous  sar 
casm: 

"Your  efforts  at  clearing  the  atmosphere  seem  to 
have  been  attended  with  great  success." 

She  laughed  merrily,  as  she  said : 

'  'Of  course  there  must  be  some  embarrassment  when 
two  such  geese  as  you  have  been,  first  meet  after  your 
foolishness.  But  be  consoled,  1  have  acted  the  part 
of  your  friend,  I  have  insisted  to  her  that  it  was  from 
no  indifference  to  her  that  you  undertook  to  find 
young  Dugdale." 

"I  hope  you  did  not  tell  her  what  I  said  to  you  in 
a.  moment  of  bitterness  and  confidence,"  said  Dick 
anxiously. 

"Am  I  not  your  friend?  Do  you  not  suppose  that 
I  know  a  girl  wants  to  hear  that  she  is  loved  from  the 
man  who  loves  her?  Oh,  I  was  discreet." 

Dick  was  silent  as  he  busied  himself  with  pushing 
small  pebbles  over  the  rocks  with  his  foot,  but  he  was 
also  busy  with  his  thoughts,  for  he  could  not  see  how 
Wallis  could  have  persuaded  Bessie  that  he  was  not 


6S  THE  DUCDALE  MILLIONS. 

indifferent  to  Bessie's  interests  without  revealing  to 
her  the  feelings  he  had  confessed  he  had  entertained. 
At  best  Wallis  was  unsatisfactory.  The  question  was, 
and  this  Wallis  did  not  answer,  Was  Bessie  convinced? 
He  endeavored  to  induce  her  to  say  more. 

"Was  this  the  news  you  desired  to  give  me?" 

"Mercy,  no!  I  had  nearly  forgotten.  Who  do 
you  think  is  coming  to  visit  Mr.  Hetlow — all  the  way 
from  England?"* 

"The  Prince  of  Wales?" 

''Nonsense!  Yet  pretty  nearly  as  great  a  person 
age.  Lord  Merrimount,  second  son  of  the  Duke  of 
Mountchessington  —  a  real  —  live  —  English — noble 
man." 

"The  dev I  mean  you  don't  say  so." 

"I  just  do  mean  to  say  so!  Now  what  do  you  think 
of  that?  He  comes  introduced  by  the  Dugdale  family 
solicitor. " 

"What  is  he  coming  here  for?" 

Wallis  turned  upon  him  with  intense  scorn. 

"Now  just  stand  up  and  look  me  in  the  eyes. 
There!  Now  what  else  do  you  suppose  he's  coming 
for  than 

"Than  what?" 

"Why  to  propose  for  Bessie,  of  course." 

"Does  he  send  that  word?" 

"  Well,  are  not  men  stupid !  Did  he  send  that  word ? 
No,  he  didn't.  Of  course  not." 

"Then  how  do  you  know?" 

"Why  gracious,  what  dullness!  The  Dugdale 
solicitor  is  also  the  solicitor  of  the  Duke's  family. 
He  knows  that  Bessie  is  heir  to  the  untold  Dugdale 
millions.  The  Duke's  family  are  not  rich,  and  so  he 
sends  young  Lord  Merrimount  over  here  to  make  love 
to  Bessie,  so  as  to  restore  the  fortunes  of  the  ducal 
family.  Why  it's  so  plain  any  one,  but  you,  could 
see  it.  Didn't  the  letter  say  that  he  would  make  a 
proposition  relative  to  the  Dugdale  estate  which  he 


D/SQU/ET/NG   NEWS  69 

thought  Mr.  He-How  ought  to  give  serious  thought 
to?" 

"Wallis,"  said  Dick,  after  a  moment's  silence,  "dc 
you  know  that  I  feel  in  rny  bones  that  I  won't  lit*, 
that  real — live — young — saphead  of  an  English  noble 
man." 

"I  shall  just  hate  him." 

"I  never  did  like  English  noblemen.  It  is  one  of 
the  peculiarities  of  my  nature  that  I  hate  an  English 
nobleman  whenever  I  meet  one." 

"How  many  have  you  ever  met?" 

"Not  one.  That,  however,  does  not  alter  the  fact. 
Wallis,  I'll  defeat  that  Lord  What's-his-narae,  if  I 
involve  the  two  countries  in  a  war." 

"And  I'll  make  his  life  miserable  while  he's  here." 

Dick  put  out  his  hand  to  Wallis. 

"It  is  a  compact  then — for  blood  and  war — for  life 
and  death.  Wallis,  there  is  an  easy  way  to  crush 
him." 

"How." 

"Find  the  missing  Dugdale.  Then  your  Lord 
won't  want  Miss  Hetlow." 

"An  additional  incentive  for  your  work.  But  we 
must  go  back  for  dinner." 

As  lightly  as  Dick  had  treated  the  news  of  the  com 
ing  of  Merrimount,  for  it  was  his  habit  to  conceal  hia 
real  emotions  under  the  guise  of  a  humorous  triviality, 
he  was  much  troubled.  With  Wallis,  he  believed  that 
the  only  object  of  the  young  nobleman's  visit  was  to 
secure  the  Dugdale  millions  by  securing  Bessie.  He 
thought  he  knew  Mr.  Hetlow  well  enough  to  know 
that  the  old  merchant  would  be  so  flattered  by  the 
prospect  of  an  alliance  with  a  family  of  such  high  rank 
in  the  mother  country,  that,  from  the  moment  of  his 
arrival,  the  young  Englishman  would  have  a  potent 
and  efficient  ally  in  the  father  of  the  girl  he  would 
come  to  woo.  So,  though  he  laughed  and  joked  with 
the  othen  at  the  dinner-table  over  the  purpose  of  tbp 


70  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

nobleman's  visit,  he  felt  his  dislike  growing  stronger 
for  the  arrogant  foreigner,  as  he  called  him. 

After  dinner,  they  went  to  the  Hetlow  mansion. 
Mr.  Hetlow  welcomed  him  cordially,  but  he  imme 
diately  perceived  that  Bessie's  manner,  though  per 
haps  intended  to  be  gracious,  was  marked  by  great 
constraint.  How  he  had  expected  to  be  received  by 
her  he  could  not  have  explained  to  himself,  but  he  was 
distinctly  conscious  that  he  resented  her  manner. 
With  a  perversity  for  which  he  cursed  himself  later  in 
the  evening,  he  assumed  an  air  of  coldness  and  indif 
ference,  which  immediately  was  met  by  Bessie  with 
an  equal  amount  of  haughtiness.  Their  quarrel  was 
continued,  though  only  words  of  the  utmost  common 
place  were  exchanged  between  them  Wallis  loyally 
endeavored  to  smooth  the  difficulties  and  exercised  no 
little  ingenuity  in  an  effort  to  bring  the  two  together. 
But  they  were  as  unmovable  as  rocks,  and  finally  she 
lost  her  temper. 

As  opportunities  presented  themselves  she  informed 
each,  at  different  times,  that  they  were  a  pair  of  idiots 
for  whom  it  was  little  use  to  attempt  to  do  anything. 

With  a  feeling  that  he  was  gratifying  a  resentment, 
Dick  told  Mr.  Hetlow,  with  positive  enthusiasm,  the 
progress  made,  and  was  unnecessarily  confident  as  to 
the  ultimate  success  of  his  search,  while  Bessie,  feeling 
also  that  she  was  gratifying  a  similar  feeling,  combated 
his  theories  and  plans  and  doubted  his  conclusions. 

As  a  consequence,  Wallis  saw  all  her  friendly  and 
amiable  schemes  fall  to  the  ground,  while  the  two 
parted  with  the  breach  wider  than  before,  and  each 
convinced  that  the  other  had  lost  the  interest  which 
each  had  hoped  had  been  felt  for  the  other. 

Dick  was  quite  sure  the  prospects  of  so  much  wealth, 
and  the  possibility  of  attaining  to  high  social  rank  by 
reason  of  its  possession,  was  the  cause  of  Bessie's 
treatment  of  himself,  while  Bessie  was  certain  some 
fairer  girl  had  stolen  into  Dick's  affections. 


DISQUIETING  NEWS.  "    71 

Wallis  was  too  indignant  over  the  perversity  of  each 
to  even  scold  Dick,  and  dismissed  him  to  his  room  for 
the  night  with  the  contemptuous  remark  that  such  a 
stupid  didn't  deserve  to  have  the  affection  of  such  a 
girl  as  Bessie. 

The  next  morning,  Mr.  Stanton  accompanied  Dick 
to  New  York.  On  the  cars,  Dick  found  an  item  in  the 
morning  paper  which  interested  him  and  which  he 
pointed  out  to  Mr.  Stanton.  It  was  this: 

"Yesterday  afternoon,  there  died  after  an  illness  of 
only  an  hour,  a  character  well  known  in  certain  circles 
— Edward  Barber.  He  was  a  man  over  seventy,  and 
was  quite  celebrated  as  a  ballet  dancer  and  director  of 
the  ballet  at  one  time — then  known  to  fame  as  Signor 
Barberini.  After  many  years'  service  at  the  Drury 
Lane,  he  came  to  this  country  to  take  charge  of  the 
ballet  of  the  Italian  Opera.  In  1856,  however,  he 
received  a  paralytic  stroke,  from  which  he  never  fully 
recovered.  Since  then  he  has  been  a  costumer  and 
dresser  of  theatrical  stars.  He  was  taken  ill  in  a 
saloon  he  much  affected  and  was  carried,  by  two  com 
panions  with  whom  he  was  drinking,  to  the  room  he 
occupied  in  the  neighborhood.  He  had  no  family." 

"You  will  not  be  able  to  question  Barber,"  said 
Dick. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

COUNTERPLOTS. 

ON  the  afternoon  of  the  day,  the  night  of  whicl; 
Mason  passed  at  Mr.  Stanton's  house,  three  men  sa 
in  close  confidence  in  the  back  room  of  the  Sixt! 
Avenue  drinking-place  frequented  by  Barber.  Two 
of  the  trio  we  have  seen  as  the  companions  of  the  old 
ballet-master,  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  proceeds  of  his 
visit  to  Dick. 

The  third  was  a  man  who  could  be  found  every 
morning  about  the  Tombs  courts,  acting  as  counsel 
for  as  many  of  the  poor  unfortunates  caught  in  the 
meshes  of  the  police  net  on  the  previous  night,  as  he 
could  discover  possessed  money,  or  could  obtain  it.  A 
few  years  ago  such  men  were  called  "Tombs  sharks," 
The  police  authorities  credited  this  man  with  having  a 
wider  knowledge  of  and  acquaintance  with  thieves  and 
men  of  irregular  lives  generally,  than  any  other  one 
person  in  the  city.  His  name  was  Moore.  He  had 
achieved  the  prenomen  of  "Nosey,"  but  was  ad 
dressed  as  Counselor  by  all  those  who  were  not  inti 
mate  enough  to  call  him  Dennis,  the  name  given  him 
by  his  parents. 

The  two  were  giving  undivided  attention  to  the  tale 
he  was  relating.  When  he  had  finished,  the  man  with 
the  soft  voice  relapsed  into  profound  thought,  the 
others  waiting  patiently  for  him  to  emerge  from  it. 

"It  is  lucky,"  he  finally  said,  "that  old  Barber  is 
dead.  He  would  have  been  in  the  way." 

No  response  was  made  to  this  remark,  but  the 
younger  man  lit  a  fresh  cigar,  and  puffed  vigorously. 

73 


COUNTERPLOTS.  -]$ 

After  a  few  moments  of  further  silence  the  man  of  ths 
soft  voice  again  spoke. 

"This  is  the  layout, "  he  said.  "Bob,  here,  finds 
that  Mason  is  a  clerk  of  Hetlow,  who  is  a  brother-in- 
law  of  the  old  Dugdale,  and  granduncle  to  the  young 
ster  they  want  to  find.  Barber  got  hold  of  the  right 
end  of  the  story.  There  is  an  heir  wanted  for  the 
money.  If  this  youngster  is  alive  he's  the  heir,  if  not 
Hetlow's  daughter  is.  So  they've  started  in  to  find 
the  youngster." 

"But,  Ransom,"  said  the  younger  man,  taking  the 
cigar  from  his  lips  that  he  might  the  more  easily  make 
his  point,  "how  can  that  be?  If  they  found  the 
young  fellow,  Hetlow's  daughter  would  be  done  out 
of  the  money.  Why  should  they  hunt  for  him?" 

"Of  course,"  replied  the  man  called  Ransom,  "that 
seems  reasonable  on  the  face  of  it.  But  there  are  some 
men  in  this  world  so  d honorable  that  they  in 
jure  themselves.  I  expect  this  Hetlow's  one  of  them. 
Anyhow  that's  what  he's  doing — looking  for  a  man, 
who,  if  they  find  him,  '11  do  the  girl  out  of  a  heap  of 
money.  'Tain't  for  us  to  talk  about  the  foolishness 
of  it,  but  the  fact  of  it.  Now  this  one  hain't  been 
seen  or  heard  of  since  he  was  two  years  old.  The 
last  that  can  be  said  of  him  is  that  at  that  time  he  was 
put  into  the  hands  of  a  man  named  Powers,  to  give  to 
somebody  else.  That's  as  far  as  they've  got,  and 
the  man  Powers  hasn't  been  found,  so  far  as  we 
know." 

"I  know  he  ain't,"  interjected  Dennis. 

"How?"  asked  Ransom. 

For  answer  Moore  took  a  newspaper  from  his 
pocket,  and  pointed  out  an  advertisement,  asking  that 
any  one  having  information  as  to  James  Powers,  a 
morocco-finisher,  who  in  1857  and  1858  lived  at 

No.  MacDougall  Street,  to  communicate  with 

Stanton,  Boyd  &  Stephens,  No.  Wall  Street. 

"That's  a  highly  respectable  law  firm."  said  Moore. 


74  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"Now  if  they  had  got  on  to  the  track  of  Powers  that 
wouldn't  be  in  the  papers." 

"That's  so,"  said  the  younger  man. 

"It  tells  us  something  more,"  remarked  Ran 
som. 

The  other  two  looked  inquiringly  at  him. 

"It  tells  us  that  Powers  was  a  morocco-finisher,  and 
that  gives  us  a  clew.  Didn't  that  Brooklyn  woman 
tell  you  some  one  had  told  her  Powers  had  moved  to 
Newark?" 

"She  said  there  was  an  idea  he  had." 

"It  all  comes  back  to  the  same  thing,"  said  Ran 
som  after  a  long  period  of  reflection  during  which  the 
others  waited  patiently.  "We  know  just  as  much  as 
Mason  or  Hetlow  knows.  You  see,"  he  said,  leaning 
back  in  his  chair,  "if  they  have  got  to  Powers,  our 
cake  is  all  dough.  If  they  haven't,  we've  got  the 
chance  of  getting  to  him  first.  If  we  do,  why  we  may 
get  the  steer  that'll  carry  us  straight  to  the  young  fel 
low  and  then  we'll  be  fixed  to  dicker  with  one  side  or 
t'other." 

"Then  the  scheme  is  to  get  the  information  and 
sell  it?"  queried  Moore. 

"That's  our  part  of  it,"  replied  Ransom.  "Not  to 
Mason  or  Stanton,  but  to  young  Dugdale  himself. 
He'll  give  up  more  for  a  fortune  he's  coming  into, 
than  Hetlow  will  for  one  he's  going  out  of.  My  point 
is  to  get  the  young  feller  and  hold  him." 

"And  it  all  turns  on  finding  Powers?"  asked  the 
young  man. 

"Yes;  and  for  that  reason  I  want  Dennis  to  start 
out  at  once." 

"Where  to?"  asked  Moore.  "I'm  blessed  if  I  see 
a  way  to  go." 

"Go  to  Newark,"  said  Ransom.  "Get  a  list  of  the 
morocco  factories  and  ask  at  each  one  if  they  know 
anything  of  Powers.  I'll  work  the  same  job  here  in 
town,  and  Bob  can  get  a  list  somewhere  of  morocco 


COUNTERPLOTS.  75 

factories  out  of  town  hereabouts,  and  write  to  'em, 
There  can't  be  such  an  allfired  lot  of  them." 

"Suppose  we  find  him  dead?"  suggested  Moore. 

"Find  what's  left  of  the  family — the  widder." 

"Suppose  she's  dead?" 

"Suppose    the    devil,"  cried    the    younger    man. 
'You're  always  setting  up  something  to  climb  over. 
Suppose  the  youngster's    dead  when    you    find  him? 
Suppose  you  can't  get  trace  of  him  at  all?" 

"Which  is  what  I  hope  '11  be  the  case,"  remarked 
Ransom. 

This,  said  without  the  trace  of  the  slightest  emotion 
and  in  those  dulcet  tones  in  such  contrast  to  his  ap 
pearance,  caused  the  utmost  surprise  in  the  others. 
The  younger  man,  after  staring  at  him  for  a  moment, 
said  with  a  puzzled  air: 

"You  hope  we  can't  get  any  trace  of  him?" 
-   "Yes,"  said  Ransom,  smiling   at    their  wonder — a 
smile  not  pleasant  to  look  upon  and  utterly  without 
geniality. 

"Well,  if  that  ain't  a  riddle  then  I  don't  know  one 
when  I  hear  it,"  remarked  the  younger  man  called 
Bob. 

"It  will  make  it  so  much  easier  to  find  young  Dug- 
dale,  won't  it?"  was  the  calm  reply. 

"Talk  in  English,"  said  Bob  impatiently.  "I  don't 
see  your  game." 

"If  we  can't  find  him  or  trace  of  him,  neither  can 
Mason  nor  Stanton,  can  they?" 

"I  suppose  that's  so,"  said  Moore. 

"If  they  don't  find  Powers  or  any  trace  of  young 
Dugdale  through  Powers,  they've  got  to  the  end, 
haven't  they?" 

"Yes." 

"That  will  suit  them,  won't  it?" 

"Why  should  it?"  asked  Moore. 

"Because  the  property  then'll  go  to  Hetlow's  girl. 
See!  There's  only  two  people  who  know  anything 


?6  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

about  Edmund  Dtigdale — Barber,  and  he's  dead,  and 
the  Brooklyn  woman.  I  got  out  of  Barber  all  he 
knew.  Dennis  got  out  of  the  Brooklyn  woman  all  she 
knew.  Neither  of  them  knew  what  was  done  with  the 
child." 

He  paused  and  looked  significantly  from  one  to  the 
other.  The  young  man  threw  his  cigar  away,  and  said 
irritably: 

"Oh,  give  it  out.     Give  it  out." 

"Then  what's  to  hinder  us  from  finding  a  Dugdale 
anyhow?" 

"The  devil,"  said  Bob  and  Moore  in  one  breath. 

Ransom  watched  them  narrowly  as  the  suggestion 
slowly  penetrated  to  their  minds  with  all  its  meanings 
and  possibilities. 

"It  isn't  so  hard  to  do,"  he  said,  after  he  had  waited 
until  his  startling  idea  had  had  time  to  find  secure 
lodgment.  "There  is  no  one  to  tell  them  how  Dug- 
dale  looked.  The  last  time  any  one  saw  him  to  know 
who  he  was,  he  was  two  years  old.  Why,  you've  got 
the  whole  game  in  your  hands!  You  can  dicker  to 
keep  him  from  knowing  who  he  is,  or  you  can  dicker 
to  get  him  to  refuse  to  be  the  heir,  for  a  good  round 
sum,  or  you  can  put  him  forward  to  take  the  whole  of 
the  property." 

"But,"  cried  the  young  man,  "how  are  you  going 
to  prove  him  to  be  Dugdale?  They  aren't  going  to 
take  him  just  because  we  say  he  is." 

"That's  easy  enough,"  interjected  Moore.  "A  few 
documents  can  be  fixed  up  that  'ud  settle  that.  What 
is  difficult  is  to  secure  yourself  against  the  real  Dug 
dale,  if  he's  alive,  turning  up  some  time." 

"Now  you've  hit  it,"  said  Ransom.  "So  you  see 
we've  got  to  hunt  for  Powers,  and  so  whether  we  find 
him  dead  or  alive,  it's  all  the  same  to  us,  but  we've 
got  to  be  sure." 

"It's  a  big  scheme,"  said  the  young  man,  "and 
awfully  risky." 


COUNTERPLOTS.  77 

"There  ain't  no  risk  until  you  know  just  where  you 
stand,  and  there's  stuff  to  be  made  whichever  way  it 
turns  out,"  replied  Ransom.  "There's  no  risk  look 
ing  for  Powers.  If  you  happen  to  run  down  the  true 
Dugdale,  then  you  bargain  with  one  side  or  t'other. 
There's  no  risk  then.  If  you  find  him  dead,  there's 
money  in  that  and  no  risk.  If  you  don't  find  him  at 
all,  or,  if  finding  Powers,  he  can't  tell  you  anything 
about  him,  or,  if  you  can't  find  Powers  at  all,  it's  easy 
enough  to  equip  him  with  an  adopted  father  with  all 
the  documents  needed." 

"You've  got  to  find  a  fellow  of  twenty-six,"  said 
Moore. 

"There  he  is,"  rejoined  Ransom,  pointing  to  the 
younger  man. 

"Me!"  cried  the  young  man,  with  an  oath,  springing 
from  his  chair.  "No,  you  don't.  I'll  not  put  myself 
in  any  such  hole." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Ransom,  calmly  and  softly, 
though  his  eyes  were  blazing  with  an  angry  fire. 

"I've  run  all  the  risks  I'm  going  to.  I've  had 
enough." 

The  tones  of  the  elder  man  were  still  dulcet,  but 
there  was  an  expression  on  his  face  which  made  the 
younger  one  falter. 

"A  fortune  mounting  up  to  millions  will  be  better 
any  time  than  a  'lifer'  in  the  'jug.'  ' 

The  young  man  turned  pale,  indeed  he  was  as  white 
as  the  wall  against  which  his  head  rested,  as  he  sank 
into  his  chair  limply. 

"You  wouldn't  peach?"  he  gasped. 

"If  Inspector  Byrnes  should  happen  to  learn  that 
Allan  Mark  Everard  spent  his  days  about  a  certain 
Sixth  Avenue  gin-mill,  someone  would  go  back  to 
England,  very  quick." 

Nerved  by  sudden  anger  the  young  man  leaped  to 
his  feet  and  made  a  backward  motion  with  his  hand, 
but  as  quick  as  it  was,  quicker  was  the  action  of  the 


7§  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS, 

elder  man  who,  mounting  the  table  which  separated 
them,  in  an  instant  encircled  the  throat  of  the  younger 
man  with  his  long  white  fingers,  and  pushed  him  into 
his  chair,  dragging  himself  across  the  table. 

"None  of  that,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice  trembling 
with  intensity. 

The  young  man's  tongue  protruded  and  his  face 
grew  purple  as  the  elder  one  held  him. 

Moore  sprang  to  the  door  to  prevent  any  one  enter 
ing,  the  moment  the  disturbance  began.  Ransom 
released  the  other,  but  stood  over  him  watching  him 
intently. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "is  it  a  'lifer'  or  with  me?" 

"I'm  with  you,  of  course.     I'm  in  your  power." 

"Oh!  You  know  that,  do  you?  What  did  you 
mean  by  going  down  for  your  gun?" 

"Come,  come,"  said  Moore  genially.  "We're  not 
going  to  get  ahead  with  quarrels.  Bob's  all  right. 
He  only  lost  his  temper.  We're  all  in  the  same  boat. 
Let's  get  down  to  business.  You  want  me  to  go  to 
Newark.  Good!  I'll  go  right  away.  Do  we  meet 
here  to-night?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Ransom,  as  he  returned  to  his  side 
of  the  table,  still  standing,  and  eying  the  younger  man 
narrowly.  "Bob,  you  be  here  at  that  hour,  and  no 
nonsense." 

He  lounged  out  of  the  side  door  and  crossed  the 
street  to  the  corner,  where  he  stood  for  some  time.  A 
man  crossed  from  the  opposite  corner  with  whom  he 
exchanged  a  word  or  two  and  lounged  up  the  avenue. 
Moore  left  the  saloon  by  the  front  entrance.  A  mo 
ment  or  two  after  the  younger  man  passed  out  of  the 
same  door  and  went  down  the  avenue.  The  man  who 
had  exchanged  words  with  Ransom  was  but  a  short 
distance  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A   FATEFUL    ARRIVAL. 

THE  reports  of  the  detectives  sent  out  to  obtain 
knowledge  of  James  Powers  were  unsatisfactory.  No 
trace  had  been  found  of  the  man  but  that  he  was  dead, 
and  had  been  for  nine  years  previous  to  the  making  of 
the  inquiries.  His  family  had  moved  from  Newark 
immediately  after  his  death,  and  trace  of  them  was 
impossible  to  find.  One  of  the  daughters  was  married 
and  it  was  believed  that  the  family  had  gone  with  her 
to  live,  but  whether  to  Philadelphia  as  some  believed, 
or  into  the  West  as  did  others,  it  was  impossible  to 
definitely  determine.  No  one  had  heard  the  name  of 
the  son-in-law. 

There  was  one  fact  in  the  report  that  caused  Dick 
much  wonder  and  some  uneasiness.  His  agents  had 
been  preceded  in  their  inquiries,  no  matter  where  they 
went,  by  a  middle-aged  man.  The  description  of  this 
man  comported  with  Mrs.  Tomlinson's  description  of 
the  man  calling  upon  her,  whom  she  had  at  first  taken 
for  Mason.  At  that  time  he  had  concluded  that  the 
man  was  acting  for  Barber,  but  Barber  was  dead  and 
still  the  inquiry  was  pursued.  He  wondered  if  Mr. 
Hetlow  had  employed  other  people  on  the  matter 
without  his  knowledge.  He  was  so  much  perplexed 
by  this  discovery,  and  as  well  by  what  appeared  to  be 
the  end  of  the  search,  that  he  thought  he  needed  the 
advice  of  Mr.  Stanton.  Accordingly  he  sent  a  dispatch 
to  the  old  lawyer,  asking  if  it  would  be  agreeable  to 
receive  him  that  afternoon.  The  answer  was  made, 
UOt  fry  the  old  lawyer,  but  by  Wallis,  to  the  effect 


8o  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

that  Mr.  Stanton  was  away  for  the  day,  but  would 
return  at  night.  Wallis,  however,  urged  Dick  to  go 
up  immediately  as  she  had  a  matter  of  great  importance 
to  communicate. 

Dick  thereupon  set  out  at  once,  and  on  arriving  at 
Springhill,  was  met  by  Wallis,  evidently  awaiting  his 
coming  with  impatience. 

"  He's  come, ' '  she  cried,  before  he  had  even  alighted 
from  his  carriage. 

"Who?     Your  uncle?"  inquired  Dick  innocently. 

"Patience!     No,  the  lord." 

"What?"  cried  Dick,  "the  Second  Advent?" 

Wallis  stared  at  him,  puzzled,  until  the  sense  of 
Dick's  apparently  irrelevant  response  stole  upon  her, 
when,  with  an  assumption  of  severity,  to  which  her 
dancing  eyes  sparkling  with  merriment  gave  the  lie, 
she  said  reprovingly : 

"That  is  wicked.  What  I  meant  was  that  Lord 
Merrimount  is  here." 

"In  this  house?"  asked  Dick  in  mock  astonishment. 
"I  refuse  to  enter.  All  the  blood  of  Bunker  Hill 
bubbles  in  my  veins." 

"Be  sensible.  This  is  no  trifling  matter.  No;  of 
course  he  isn't  here.  He's  over  at  Mr.  Hetlow's. " 

Dick  stepped  out  on  the  driveway  and  looked  over 
at  the  Hetlows'  mansion,  the  towers  of  which  were 
gleaming  under  the  rays  of  the  declining  sun,  a  prey 
to  conflicting  emotions,  strong  among  which  was  a 
sense  of  self-pity  that  fortune  had  used  him  so  ill. 
He  recovered  himself  in  a  moment,  and  going  back  to 
Wallis,  said  with  well  assumed  carelessness: 

"I  do  not  see  that  the  royal  standard  floats  from  the 
towers,  as  yet  at  all  events." 

"I  don't  believe  you  care  one  whit  whether  he  is 
there  or  not,"  said  Wallis,  annoyed  that  her  informa 
tion  should  be  received  so  coolly.  "You  are  very 
trifling,  or — 

She  clasped  her  hands  in  anxious  expectancy: 


A   FATEFUL  ARRIVAL.  Si 

"Or  you've  found  young  Dugdale." 

"No,"  replied  Dick,  ascending  the  steps.  "Young 
Dugdale  still  has  the  indecent  perversity  to  conceal 
his  being.  What  does  he  look  like?" 

"There's  the  worst  of  it,"  replied  Wallis  petulantly. 
"He's  a  real  fine-looking  man  and  a  gentleman  in 
everything." 

"Worse  and  worse,"  cried  Dick,  dolefully  sinking 
into  a  chair.  "Now,  if  he  were  only  fifty,  with  a  bald 
head,  minus  his  teeth " 

"He  has  a  splendid  set  of  teeth,  and  he  is  not  any 
older  than  you  are,"  interposed  Waliis. 

"The  fates  are  perverse,"  murmured  Dick;  "Dug 
dale  won't  materialize,  and  Merrimount  will  be  young 
and  handsome.  At  all  events,"  he  continued  hope 
fully,  "he  has  neither  my  goodness  nor  sweetness." 

"Goodness  nor  sweetness!"  this  with  ineffable  con 
tempt.  "Was  there  ever  such  conceit?" 

"Nor  my  good  clothes." 

"There — I'll  grant  you  one  superiority.  How  do 
you  know  he  hasn't  your  goodness  nor  sweetness? 
You  haven't  seen  him." 

"I'm  arguing  on  general  principles.  In  the  first 
place,  mine  is  of  such  high  degree  that  two  possessing 
an  equal  amount,  in  the  nature  of  things,  would  not 
revolve  in  the  same  circle.  Again,  he  is  a  British 
nobleman,  I  am  an  American  citizen.  Goodness  and 
sweetness  is  inherent  in  the  latter,  but  in  the 
former ' ' 

"Oh,  spare  me,"  broke  in  Wallis,  "I  think  he  is 
good.  He  looks  like  it." 

"But  as  to  sweetness,  you  are  not  certain." 

"Pah!      I  think  he  is  real  nice,  and  very  polite." 

"Wallis,  you  have  deserted  me.  You  have  gone 
over  to  the  enemy." 

"I  haven't.  But  facts  are  facts.  He's  been  very 
nice  to  me  and  is  agreeable  to  everybody.  To  be  sure 
he  hems  and  haws  a  little  too  much,  and  every  time  I 


82  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS, 

make  a  remark  looks  at  me  as  if  I  were  a  wild  animal 
recently  caught  and  tamed,  and  on  the  whole  rather  a 
curiosity.  But  he's  very  nice." 

"Has  he  proposed  to  Miss  Hetlow  yet?" 

"Why  don't  you  ask  if  he  telegraphed  for  her  hand 
when  he  reached  Sandy  Hook?  It  would  be  quite 
as  sensible." 

"How  long  has  he  been  here?" 

"Four  days." 

"Wallis,  with  his  advantages  and  under  the  same 
roof " 

"Added  to  your  advantages  of  goodness  and  sweet 
ness  and  fine  clothes,  you  would  have  married  Bessie 
in  that  time." 

"Precisely." 

"Mr.  Mason,  I  admire  you  very  much.  Your  confi 
dence  in  your  own  powers  is  charming." 

"I  wish  Miss  Hetlow  was  of  your  mind.  But  in 
face  of  this  great  and  immediate  danger,  what  are  we 
to  do?" 

"We?     It's  you." 

"No;  you  swore  fidelity  to  me  in  life  or  death — • 
blood  or  war.  You  cannot  desert  my  colors  on  the 
first  sight  of  the  enemy.  Wallis,  I  fear  me  greatly, 
that  those  bewitching  black  eyes  of  yours  have  been 
dazzled  by  the  jewels  of  that  coronet." 

"Jewels!     I  haven't  seen  any  jewels  yet." 

"What?  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  Lord  Merri- 
mount  has  not  been  wearing  his  glittering  coronet  oil 
his  head,  with  a  golden  stick  in  his  hand?" 

"How  can  you  be  so  absurd!     Of  course  not." 

"Not  once,  eh!     Wallis,  we  have  him!" 

"How?" 

"We  have  him!  A  man  who  carries  a  glittering 
coronet  around  in  his  trunk,  and  doesn't  know  tha» 
the  place  for  it,  in  this  country,  of  all  countries,  is  on 
his  head,  is  gone — he's  easily  demolished." 

"What  nonsense  are  you  talking?" 


A  FATEFUL  ARRIVAL.  83 

"Why,  if  he  had  mounted  that  coronet  at  the  first 
dinner,  all  the  women,  from  you  down  to  the  scullery 
maid  would  have  been  contemplating  the  tip  end  of 
his  polished  boots  in  adoration." 

"You're  positively  insulting." 

"He'll  lose  the  game  through  his  ignorance  of  the 
weakness  of  the  natives." 

'  'And  you  expect  me  to  be  your  friend  after  such 
abuse?" 

"I  promise  you  I  shan't  inform  him.  Magnanimity 
is  my  strong  point,  but  there  is  a  limit — a  limit  even 
to  mine." 

"There  ought  to  be  a  limit  to  your  foolish  tongue. 
Let  us  go  over  to  Bessie.  Perhaps  you  may  meet  him." 

"O  Heavens,  no." 

"Afraid  of  him?" 

"Afraid  of  him?  No.  But  it  is  against  my  Ameri 
can  principles  to  encourage  noblemen  by  recognition 
of  their  existence." 

"Really!  I  am  quite  sure  if  Lord  Merrimount 
could  hear  you,  he  would  be  crushed." 

"I  perceive,  Wallis,  and  I  greatly  regret  it,  that  the 
title  of  that  misguided  young  man  trips  off  your  tongue 
with  a  lingering  unctuousness,  as  if  you  were  loathe  to 
let  it  go." 

"Will  you  go  with  me?     I  dare  you  to  go!" 

"I  will  rise  to  heights  of  moral  grandeur.  I  will  be 
dared." 

"The  American  citizen,  as  represented  by  you, 
seemt  to  be  timid." 

"I  will  not  be  ridiculed  into  descending  from  my 
high  moral  perch.  But  I  will  compromise  with  you. 
I'll  write  a  note  to  Mr.  Hetlow,  and  ask  if  he  will 
receive  me." 

Dick  suddenly  became  very  sober. 

"To  be  sensible  again,"  he  continued,  "I  have  a 
reason,  apart  from  any  consideration  of  Lord  Merri 
mount  for  making  my  intercourse  with  Mr.  Hetlow, 


84  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

in  his  own  house,  as  formal  as  possible.  I  do  not  for* 
get  that  Mr.  Hetlow  once  delicately  hinted  something 
about  the  inexpediency  of  junior  clerks  being  received 
at  their  employers'  houses  on  terms  of  social  equality. 
True,  I  am  not  now  a  junior  clerk,  but  I  have  never 
been  invited  to  visit  Mr.  Hetlow  in  any  other  capacity 
than  as  assistant.  So,  if  you  will  permit  me,  I  will 
address  a  note  to  him." 

About  the  time  Dick  was  asking  Wallis  for  writing 
materials,  Mr.  Hetlow  was  taking  Lord  Merrimount 
into  the  library,  at  the  request  of  the  young  nobleman 
for  a  formal  interview. 

Bessie  had  refused  to  believe  that  the  object  of  Lord 
Merrimount's  visit  was  to  propose  for  her  hand.  Yet 
she  had  heard  so  much  from  Wallis  and  others  about 
her,  all  of  whom  had  settled  into  the  fixed  belief  that 
such  was  his  object,  that  when  she  learned  the  two 
had  shut  themselves  up  in  the  library,  she  became 
nervous  and  excited,  and  could  no  longer  remain  in 
her  apartments.  So  she  ran  out  to  consult  with  Wallis 
as  to  the  course  she  should  pursue,  in  case  the  confei- 
ence  with  her  father  and  Lord  Merrimount  resulted  in 
a  proposal  for  her  hand.  While  she  bitterly  con 
demned  herself  for  entertaining  the  idea  that  her  hand 
was  the  object  of  the  young  nobleman's  visit  to  Amer 
ica,  yet  she  determined  she  would  not  yield,  however 
disappointed  her  father  might  be.  She  would  not 
admit  herself  that  her  heart  was  given  to  Dick.  Of 
course  that  idea  was  preposterous  after  the  way  he  had 
treated  her.  But  she  determined  that  the  man  who 
won  her  hand  must  first  win  her  heart,  and  to  do  that 
he  must  possess  qualities  similar  to  those  of  Mr. 
Mason.  She  was  quite  young  enough  to  forego  bril 
liant  position  in  the  world  for  a  man  she  loved  anc 
admired  the  most,  but  which  of  course  was  not  Mr. 
Mason.  Oh,  no!  Not  after  that  day  when  he  had 
attributed  such  base  and  sordid  motives  to  her  and 
had  dared  to  reprove  her. 


A   FATEFUL  ARRIVAL.  85 

What  Mr.  Hetlow's  opinion  was  as  to  the  meaning 
Of  the  young  nobleman's  visit  no  one  knew,  for  he  had 
expressed  none,  however  slight.  If  he  shared  that  pre 
vailing  at  "The  Larches"  he  must  have  been  greatly 
surprised  when  that  object  was  unfolded. 

With  little  hesitation  and  in  a  simple  and  direct  man 
ner,  Lord  Merrimount  set  forth  that  the  family  estates 
were  heavily  burdened.  The  cost  of  maintaining  the 
various  places  which  made  up  the  estate  was  heavy, 
and,  as  misfortune  had  followed  upon  misfortune,  the 
personal  property  of  the  family  had  been  so  greatly 
reduced  that  it  was  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty 
that  the  yearly  obligations  could  be  met.  This  was 
the  condition  of  affairs  when  the  family  solicitor,  also 
bearing  the  same  relation  to  the  Dugdale  estate,  had 
proposed,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  sole  heir  to  the 
Dugdale  estate  was  a  woman,  who  probably  would  not 
care  to  continue  the  business,  that  the  Duke  of  Mount- 
chessington  should  purchase  an  interest  in  the  business, 
and  place  his  second  son  in  the  concern  as  a  partner, 
the  proceeds  of  which  partnership  should  be  devoted 
to  lifting  the  family  burden.  To  that  end  Lord  Mer 
rimount  had  come  to  offer  fifty  thousand  pounds  in 
cash  for  such  interest  as  could  be  mutually  agreed  upon. 

This  proposition  had  just  been  submitted  when 
Dick's  note  was  presented  to  Mr.  Hetlow.  Excusing 
himself  to  Merrimount,  Mr.  Hetlow,  after  reading  the 
note,  said  chat  the  letter  was  in  touch  with  the 
very  subject  they  were  in  conference  over.  Asking 
permission  to  answer  it,  he  did  so  by  requesting  Dick 
to  present  himself  at  once.  Then  turning  to  Merri 
mount,  he  said  that  it  was  not  yet  determined  whether 
his  daughter  was  the  heir.  He  related  to  the  young 
nobleman  the  tale  with  which  the  reader  is  familiar, 
and  concluded  by  saying  that  the  note  he  had  just 
read  was  from  one  of  his  most  trusted  assistants,  and 
to  whom  was  confided  the  search  for  the  young  Dug 
dale.  Continuing,  he  said: 


86  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

''I  have  asked  Mr.  Mason  to  come  to  us  at  once. 
He  may  have  some  information  directly  bearing  upon 
this  matter  which  we  have  under  advisement.  He  is 
stopping  with  a  neighbor,  and  I  imagine,  although  I 
have  no  knowledge,  has  aspirations  for  the  hand  of 
the  young  lady  of  the  house.  However  this  is  not  to 
the  point.  Your  lordship  will  see  that  since  the  suc 
cession  to  the  Dugdale  estate  is  not  determined,  since 
it  is  among  the  possibilities  that  young  Dugdale  may 
be  found,  it  is  really  impossible  at  this  juncture  to 
entertain  the  proposition.  If  young  Dugdale  is  found, 
of  course  neither  my  daughter  nor  myself  will  have  a 
voice  in  the  disposal  of  the  Dugdale  estate.  If  how 
ever  Dugdale  is  found  to  be  dead,  or  cannot  be  found 
at  all,  then  my  daughter  will  succeed,  and  then  only 
can  we  entertain  the  proposition  you  have  done  us  such 
honor  to  make.  As  the  matter  now  stands,  I  would 
suggest  that  your  lordship  make  'The  Larches'  your 
home  until  the  matter  is  definitely  determined  one 
way  or  the  other." 

Mr.  Hetlow  had  only  concluded  his  statement, 
when  Dick's  card  was  presented.  Bidding  the  servant 
to  conduct  Dick  to  the  library,  Mr.  Hetlow  continued 
to  Merrimount : 

"Thus  you  will  perceive,  my  lord,  that  at  present 
my  daughter  cannot  be  declared  the  heir." 

At  this  moment  Dick  was  announced,  and  the  ser 
vant  retired.  The  young  nobleman  and  the  old  mer 
chant  were  standing  at  the  window  with  their  backs 
to  the  door  and  so  engrossed  that  neither  had  heard 
the  announcement  of  Dick's  presence.  As  a  conse 
quence,  that  luckless  young  man  was  left  standing  at 
the  door  an  unwilling  listener  to  the  conversation. 

"I  am  deeply  sensible  of  the  alliance  you  propose," 
said  the  old  merchant. 

"Hang  it!"  thought  Dick,  "why  don't  they  turn? 
I  don't  want  to  hear  my  own  misery." 

"As  you  will  perceive,  until  this  search  is  concluded 


A  FATEFUL  ARRIVAL.  87 

and  my  daughter's  status  is  fixed,  I  cannot  entertain 
your  proposition.  Indeed  it  would  be  neither  just  to 
her  nor  to  you." 

The  young  nobleman  bowed  in  acquiescence. 

"One  thing  more,"  continued  Mr.  Hetlow,  "and 
then,  with  your  permission,  we  will  drop  the  subject. 
I  have  talked  little  with  my  daughter  as  to  her  pros 
pects  while  such  uncertainty  hung  about  them. 
Therefore  I  beg  you  will  not  address  her  npon  the 
subject." 

The  young  nobleman,  with  a  bow,  said  that  under 
the  circumstances  he  would  not  think  of  doing  so,  and 
thanked  the  old  gentleman  for  his  frankness  and 
courtesy. 

Dick  could  stand  it  no  longer.  He  deliberately 
kicked  a  piece  of  furniture  to  announce  his  presence, 
causing  both  to  turn. 

"Ah,  Mason!"  cried  Mr.  Hetlow,  "I'm  glad 
you've  come.  Lord  Merrimount,  this  is  one  of  my 
most  trusted  lieutenants  (he  said  leftenants),  Mr.  Ma 
son,  of  whom  I  spoke  a  moment  ago." 

The  two  young  men  bowed,  the  nobleman  most  cor 
dially,  and,  as  Dick  felt  bound  to  admit,  without  a 
trace  of  that  haughty  reserve  he  had  expected  to  meet 
with.  On  his  own  part  he  was  about  to  extend  his 
hand,  when  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  heard 
somewhere  that  Englishmen  did  not  shake  hands,  so 
he  contented  himself  with  an  inclination  of  his  head, 
somewhat  more  reserved  than  was  his  wont. 

Merrimount  was  "chawmed"  to  meet  Mr.  Mason, 
and  Dick  was  pleased  to  know  Lord  Merrimount. 

"Mr.  Mason,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow,  after  asking  Dick 
to  be  seated,  "we  were  discussing  the  search  you  have 
charge  of,  in  its  relation  to  a  proposition  I  have  had 
the  honor  to  receive  from  Lord  Merrimount.  Your 
coming  is  timely,  and  we  would  like  to  know  the 
latest." 

"I  presume,"  said  Dick,  turning  to  the  young  noble- 


88  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

man  and  thinking  what  a  handsome  fellow  he  was, 
"that  Lord  Merrimount  has  been  informed  as  to  the 
condition  of  the  search  up  to  the  present." 

"Yes,"  responded  Merrimount,  "Mr.  Hetlow  has 
been  kind  enough." 

"Then,"  continued  Dick,  "you  know  that  latterly 
the  search  has  been  directed  to  the  discovery  of  one 
James  Powers,  a  morocco-finisher." 

The  young  Englishman  bowed  to  indicate  he  so 
understood. 

"By  the  report  of  the  detective,"  Dick  went  on, 
"made  to  me  this  morning,  it  appears  that  James 
Powers,  after  having  finished  morocco  all  his  life,  fin 
ished  his  earthly  career  about  nine  years  ago." 

Mr.  Hetlow  frowned  over  this  levity,  but  the  eyes 
of  the  young  nobleman  sparkled  with  suppressed 
humor. 

"The  family,  consisting  of  the  widow  and  two 
daughters,  one  of  them  married,  disappeared  shortly 
after  the  death  of  Powers,  but  where  they  went  or 
where  they  are  now,  we  have  up  to  the  present  time 
been  unable  to  discover.  In  short,  with  all  the  dili 
gence  we  have  used,  or  the  acumen  we  could  employ, 
we  are  really  but  little  nearer  the  end  than  in  the  be 
ginning." 

"Then,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow,  "as  a  matter  of  fact, 
nothing  definite  has  been  ascertained." 

"That  is  it,  sir.  I  have  come  here  to  consult  with 
Mr.  Stanton  as  to  the  next  step.  He  is  fertile  in 
devices,  and  has  had  a  large  experience,  as  a  lawyer, 
in  hunting  lost  heirs." 

"Very  properly,"  remarked  Mr.  Hetlow.  Then 
changing  his  tone,  he  said  to  Dick's  astonishment: 

"Mr.  Mason,  Lord  Merrimount  will  remain  with  us 
until  something  definite  is  reached.  I  shall  look  to 
you  to  assist  in  making  his  stay  in  America  agreeable. 
Young  men  can  cater  for  young  men's  amusement 
better  than  old  men  can." 


A   FATEFUL  ARRIVAL.  89 

The  words  Dick  gave  expression  to  upon  the  spur 
of  the  moment  were  idle  and  hollow,  wrung  from  him 
in  his  surprise. 

"I  will  be  pleased  to  devote  myself  to  Lord  Merri- 
mount, "  he  said. 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  young  Englishman  heartily, 
rising  and  extending  his  hand  to  Dick.  "But  please 
drop  the  title.  It  isn't  anything  in  this  country,  you 
know.  I'd  rather  be  called  Merrimount." 

As  Dick  took  the  other's  hand,  and  felt  the  firm 
hearty  grasp  with  which  his  own  was  taken,  he  appre 
ciated  the  sincerity  of  the  man,  and  felt  a  strong  lik 
ing  for  the  Englishman ;  moreover  he  was  distinctly 
conscious  that  the  young  nobleman  had  formed 
the  same  feeling  for  himself.  It  was  one  of  those 
strong  fancies  which  not  infrequently  occur  between 
men  instantly  on  meeting,  which  is  not  to  be  ex 
plained. 

"Mason,  you  will  dine  with  us  to-night,"  said  Het- 
low.  "Dinner  at  seven." 

Accepting  the  invitation,  given  as  it  was  in  a  spirit 
he  could  not  resent,  he  begged  to  retire  to  prepare 
himself. 

As  he  wandered  along  the  crooked  path  leading  to 
Mr.  Stanton's  house,  he  muttered  to  himself: 

"Hang  it;  he's  just  the  kind  of  fellow  I  didn't  want 
him  to  be — handsome,  courteous,  simple,  unaffected, 
a  d good  fellow,  d him." 

He  did  not  see  Wallis  until  in  the  evening,  when  he 
walked  back  from  "The  Larches"  with  her. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "he's  gone  and  done  it." 

"Done  what?"  asked  Wallis,  with  a  gasp. 

"He  has  proposed  for  Miss  Hetlow's  hand." 

"Lord  Merrimount  has?  Oh,  we  feared  that  was 
what  the  library  conference  meant.  Did  Mr.  Hetlow 
consent?  Of  course  he  did." 

"No;  he  said,  'until  it  was  definitely  settled  that 
Miss  Hetlow  was  the  heir,  everything  must  remain  in 


9<>  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

suspense.'      In  the   meantime  Merrimount  is   to  say 
nothing  to  Miss  Hetlow." 

"And  the  sword  is  to  dangle  over  her  head  all  the 
while?" 

-"Yes;  but  a  chance  is  left  us.     I  will  find  that  Dug- 
dale." 

"You  certainly  must." 

As  Wallis  left  Dick  for  the  night,  she  whispered  to 
him: 

"Bessie  doesn't  want  Merrimount.     She  won't  have 
him  at  any  price." 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  PLAN   OF   CAMPAIGN. 

WHEN  Dick  consulted  Mr.  Stanton  as  to  the  course 
to  be  pursued  in  view  of  the  failure  of  the  search  for 
Powers  the  lawyer  had  little  to  offer.  The  best  advice 
he  could  give  was  that  advertisements,  calling  upon  per 
sons  having  knowledge  of  James  Powers,  deceased,  to 
communicate  with  Stanton,  Boyd  &  Stevens,  should 
be  spread  far  and  wide. 

The  old  lawyer  was  evidently  puzzled  by  the  infor 
mation  given  him  by  Dick  that  a  person  was  conduct 
ing  a  search  upon  parallel  lines.  The  thought  occurred 
to  him,  as  it  had  to  Dick,  that  perhaps  Mr.  Hetlovr 
unknown  to  them  had  employed  other  people,  but 
Dick  disposed  of  that  idea,  by  telling  him  that  he  had 
questioned  Mr.  Hetlow  upon  the  point,  and  had 
received  the  assurance  that  no  one  but  himself  had 
been  so  employed.  Mr.  Stanton  was  inclined  to  give 
the  fact  a  greater  importance  than  Dick  had  been. 
But,  with  all  the  consideration  he  gave  to  it,  he  could 
:aot  suggest  a  purpose. 

<Tt  would  be  strange,"  he  said,  "if  the  young  Dug- 
dale  was  endeavoring  to  establish  proof  of  his  identity, 
starting  from  the  end  we  are  seeking  and,  in  working 
toward  us,  crossing  our  lines  in  the  endeavor.  It  is  by 
no  means  improbable.  All  we  can  do,  however,  is  to 
await  developments, ' ' 

And  so,   without  a  satisfactory   result  from   their 
consultation,  Dick  went  to  his  bed,  much  disturbed 
r  the  events  of  the  day. 

During  the  dinner  mention  had  been  made  of  West 

53 


92  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Point,  which  had  interested  Lord  Merrimount.  Learn 
ing  that  the  place  was  not  far  distant,  the  young  noble 
man  expressed  an  earnest  desire  to  visit  it.  Out  of 
the  talk  and  the  desire,  came  the  arrangement  that  on 
the  following  day  Dick  should  accompany  the  young 
Englishman  with  letters  of  introduction  to  some  of 
the  officers  stationed  there.  At  first,  it  had  been  sug 
gested  that  a  party  should  be  arranged,  consisting  of 
the  young  ladies  and  Mrs.  Stanton  as  chaperon.  But 
this  had  been  abandoned,  by  reason  of  Bessie's  oppo 
sition,  pleading  prior  engagements,  but  which  Dick 
attributed  to  her  disinclination  to  be  of  a  party  of 
which  he  was  one. 

It  was  true  that  Bessie's  opposition  arose  from  the 
fact  that  Dick  would  be  one  of  the  party,  but  not  from 
dislike  of  him,  but  because  of  the  fear  of  embarrass 
ments,  to  arise  from  such  close  associations  as  it  would 
entail. 

Accordingly,  early  in  the  morning  of  the  next  day, 
the  two  young  men  set  forth.  The  day  was  not 
marked  by  any  incident  of  moment,  but  it  afforded  an 
opportunity  for  the  young  men  to  become  better 
acquainted  with  each  other.  The  impression  each  had 
made  upon  the  other  upon  their  first  meeting  was 
deepened,  and  Dick  was  forced  to  admit  that  Merri 
mount  was  not  only  a  right  good  fellow  but  a  man  of 
sense  and  ability,  not  at  all  disposed  to  take  advan 
tage  of  his  rank  and  birth,  but  rather  disposed  to  lay 
them  aside  as  of  no  possible  concern  in  this  country. 

He  puzzled  Dick,  however,  by  many  of  his  remarks. 
For  instance  he  said: 

"I  don't  see  any  leisure  class  in  this  country. 
Everybody  seems  to  have  occupation,  and  everybody 
is  prosperous.  I  don't  think  I  am  like  that  famous 
countryman  of  mine  who,  upon  entering  France,  and 
seeing  three  women  wearing  sabots,  jotted  down  in  his 
note  book  that  all  the  women  in  France  wore  wooden 
shoes,  but  it  does  seem  to  me,  I  see  more  universal 


A  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN.  93 

luxury  in  life  than  I  am  accustomed  to  observing  at 
home.  I  suppose  it  comes  from  the  fact  that  every 
one  is  engaged  in  producing.  We  will  come  to  it  at 
home.  We  will  have  to,  to  save  ourselves.  People 
of  our  class  are  now  doing  things  that  would  not  have 
been  dreamed  of  five-and-twenty  years  ago.  For 
instance,  I  am  seeking  to  go  into  trade,  as  you  prob 
ably  know,  for  that  is  what  my  proposition  to  Mr. 
Hetlow  really  involves." 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged,"  thought  Dick,  "he  pro 
poses  to  become  the  largest  wool  merchant  in  England 
by  marrying  Bessie.  It  is  an  ingenious  way  of  getting 
into  business.  I  suppose  Bessie  is  a  mere  incident  to 
this  going  into  trade." 

"Mr.  Hetlow  has  doubtless  told  you  of  this?"  con 
tinued  Merrimount. 

"No,"  replied  Dick,  "he  has  given  me  no  confi 
dence  on  the  matter." 

"Oh,  well  then,  I  ought  to  say  nothing  more,  but 
what  I  have  said  will  suffice  to  show  what  a  change  is 
taking  place  at  home.  The  caste  wall  is  breaking 
down  rapidly — so  rapidly  indeed  that  the  Radicals  are 
predicting  that  the  Queen  will  be  the  last  ruler  under 
the  theory  of  divine  right.  Of  course  the  traditions 
of  our  house  are  against  any  such  theory,  for  we  are 
loyal  supporters  of  the  crown ;  but  the  leveling  tenden 
cies  of  the  age  have  entered  our  circle,  and  the  family 
indorsed  my  mission  to  this  country,  and  is  willing 
that  I  should  devote  myself  to  trade.  Indeed  many 
of  the  old  families  are  making  alliances,  by  marriage 
with  tradespeople,  which  would  even  twenty  years  ago 
have  been  called  a  mesalliance" 

The  manner  in  which  Merrimount  talked,  the  utter 
absence  of  any  regret  over  the  state  of  things  he  was 
describing,  or  affectation  of  superiority,  but  as  if 
there  was  in  this  progress  to  an  advanced  condition 
to  be  commended  rather  than  condemned,  contrasted 
v/ith  what  Dick  thought  was  an  arrogant  assumption 


94  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

that  when  the  time  came,  in  the  young  nobleman's 
judgment  and  pleasure,  he  had  but  to  cast  his  hand 
kerchief  upon  Bessie  and  carry  her  off,  involved  con 
tradictions  which  Dick  could  not  understand. 

He  listened  to  Merrimount  and  reasoned.  He  saw 
that  the  Englishman  was  a  sincere,  open,  and  frank 
young  fellow,  and  finally  concluded  that  the  assump 
tion  arose  from  an  appreciation  of  his  own  rank,  which 
was  so  recognized  at  home  that  he  was  unconscious  of 
a  possibility  of  failure  in  any  alliance  which  he  might 
propose. 

As  it  was,  the  day's  association  ended  so  far  as  Dick 
was  concerned  in  a  very  much  increased  respect  for 
the  man  in  the  nobleman.  What  he  found  to  criti 
cise  in  Merrimount  was  the  result  of  training  and  edu 
cation,  rather  than  inherent  qualities.  He  concluded 
that  Englishmen  were  given  to  regard  the  marriage 
relation  rather  as  a  matter  of  convenience  than  as  an 
affair  of  the  heart — as  a  partnership  to  be  entered 
into  with  a  due  regard  to  the  advantages  to  accrue  to 
both  the  contracting  parties.  It  was  only  upon  this 
ground  that  he  could  reconcile  the  fact  that  he  talked 
of  his  mission  to  America  without  a  singie  allusion  to 
Bessie,  and  of  Wallis,  whose  brightness  and  wit 
seemed  to  have  greatly  taken  his  fancy,  in  terms 
approaching  admiration. 

"Well,"  said  Dick  aloud  to  himself,  after  he  had 
parted  from  the  young  nobleman  on  their  return,  "I 
can't  make  out  just  the  particular  kind  of  a  beast  he  is. 
All  I  do  know  is  that  he  is  a  good  fellow — a  first-rate 
good  fellow — but  all  the  same,  1  don't  want  him  to  walk 
off  with  Bessie,  and  he  won't  if  I  can  help  it." 

While  Dick  and  Merrimount  were  returning  from 
West  Point  in  the  afternoon,  Ransom,  Bob,  and  Den 
nis  Moore  were  in  close  consultation  at  Moore's  rooms 
in  Third  Avenue. 

Moore's  story  of  the  result  of  his  inquiries  at  New- 


A  PLAN  OP  CAMPAIGN.  95 

ark,  showed  he  had  arrived  at  precisely  the  same  end 
the  detectives  employed  by  Dick  had. 

"The  affair,"  he  said  in  concluding,  "is  in  bad 
shape.  If  we  could  find  where  the  Powers  family  had 
gone  to,  we  could  base  some  action  on  the  knowledge. 
But  here  we  are  with  our  heads  against  a  stone  wall. 
So  long  as  we  know  nothing  about  it,  we  can't  make  a 
stir,  because  we  don't  know  at  what  moment  the  old 
woman  may  pop  up,  and  not  only  upset  our  plans, 
but  put  us  into  trouble." 

"The  old  woman  is  dead,"  said  Ransom  in  his  soft 
voice. 

"Ah!"  responded  Moore  argumentatively,  "you 
don't  know  that  for  a  fact.  If  you  did  it  would  be 
all  right." 

"But  I  do  know  it,"  persisted  Ransom.  "She  is 
dead." 

Moore  and  Bob  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  aston 
ishment  in  their  glances. 

"I  have  got  a  piece  of  news,"  he  continued. 
"This  aftejjpoon  I  fell  in  with  a  party  over  in  Broad 
way,  and  one  of  them  happened  to  remark  that  he  had 
followed  the  trade  of  a  morocco-finisher  all  his  life. 
I  asked  if  he  knew  a  James  Powers  in  the  same  line. 
It  turned  out  that  he  had  learned  his  trade  from  him, 
but  he  said  he  was  dead,  and  he  went  on  to  say  that 
he  left  a  widow  and  two  daughters,  but  that  the  widow 
only  lived  a  year  after  his  death  and  died  here  in  New 
York,  and  that  he  had  been  at  her  funeral.  He  said 
both  daughters  were  married,  but  he  didn't  know  their 
names  or  where  they  lived." 

"Ah!"  said  Moore,  "that  helps  somewhat." 

"It  helps  a  good  deal,"  insisted  Ransom. 

"Not  much,"  persisted  Moore.  "You  see  you  are 
m  the  same  position  as  to  the  daughters.  You  don't 
know  where  they  are." 

"They  don't  count  in  this  game,"  was  the  positive 


9<5  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS, 

reply  of  Ransom.  "See;  Dugdale  died  in  1858;  the 
Powerses  left  New  York  in  the  same  year ;  Powers  died 
fifteen  years  after,  1873;  at  the  same  time  the  eldest 
daughter  was  twenty  years  old.  Therefore  in  1858 
she  was  five  years  old — too  young  to  know  anything 
about  the  adoption  of  the  child  of  Dugdale.  When 
she  was  old  enough,  the  adoption  must  have  been  an 
old  story  with  Powers  and  his  wife,  because  the  only 
interest  they  could  have  had  in  the  child  was  to  get 
rid  of  it.  The  game  is  ours." 

Moore  was  thoughtful.     Bob  watched  him  eagerly. 

"You  are  right,"  he  finally  said.  "The  element  of 
risk  is  out  of  it.  Everything  seems  to  run  in  our 
favor.  Old  Barber  is  dead.  Mrs.  Tomlinson  knows 
nothing  that  can  spoil  us.  And  the  two  Powers  peo 
ple  are  dead.  Yes,  we  are  safe  fcr  the  next  move. 
What  is  it?" 

Ransom  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  his  head  bent  over 
the  table  at  which  he  was  sitting.  His  leadership  was 
demonstrated  in  the  respect  the  others  paid  his  silence. 

"You  know,"  he  said  finally,  as  he  lifted  his  head 
from  the  table,  "when  I  was  a  kid,  I  worked  in  the 
office  of  the  Courier  and  Inquirer.  Edmund  Dugdale 
worked  in  the  same  office,  putting  the  papers  into 
wrappers  and  addressing  them.  Now  on  the  basis  of 
that  I  mean  to  go  to  Mason,  in  answer  to  that  adver 
tisement  of  his,  and  claim  I  knew  the  man." 

"Yes?"  asked  Bob  anxiously,  even  impatiently, 
"and  what  then?" 

"I  will  tell  him  that  I  used  to  run  errands  for  him 
and  go  to  his  house ;  that  I  knew  a  woman  named 
Tomlinson  who  took  the  baby ;  that  I  knew  the  Pow 
erses  and  that  if  I  can  think  of  another  name  I  can 
find  who  adopted  the  baby." 

Again  he  was  silent  for  a  while. 

"Well,"  he  continued,  "by  degrees  I  can  get  to  an 
old  man  who  adopted  the  baby  and  can  find  Dugdale 
to  present  him  to  Mason." 


A  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN.  97 

"But  who?"  asked  Moore;   "you  are  not  plain." 

"I  am  not  so  glib  with  my  tongue  as  you  lawyers 
are,"  replied  Ransom  sarcastically.  "You  must  wait 
until  I  tell  you.  You  know  Orton  Pierson?" 

"What,  the  lawyer  disbarred  a  dozen  years  ago  for 
being  concerned  in  some  forgeries  of  documents?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  what  of  him?" 

"He  will  do  for  the  man  who  adopted  the  Dugdale 
baby." 

"The  deuce,"  commented  Moore  doubtfully.  "He 
doesn't  stand  well  in  this  city." 

"Suppose  he  don't.  What's  that  to  do  with  it? 
His  wife's  dead.  He  did  have  an  adopted  son,  who 
ran  away  years  ago  and  died  in  prison  in  Spain  as 
Pierson  and  I  and  nobody  else  knows,  three  years  ago, 
and  besides  the  old  man's  handy  with  the  pen." 

"But  will  he  go  into  the  scheme?"  asked  Moore. 

"He  will  do  what  I  tell  him." 

"Have  you  talked  to  him  about  it?"  asked  Bob. 

"Not  yet.  He'll  do  it.  He's  got  little  to  say  that 
isn't  true.  His  wife  got  a  baby  from  someone  named 
Powers.  That's  one  lie.  Then  he'll  tell  the  story  of 
the  youngster  he  did  have,  of  his  running  away  and 
turning  up  three  years  ago.  That's  no  lie.  Bob 
turned  up  here  three  years  ago  and  he  can  tell  about 
his  knocking  about  the  world — in  India  and  the  rest 
of  it,  except  those  two  years  in  France,"  he  added, 
with  a  malicious  grin. 

Bob  bit  his  cigar  in  a  nervous,  vicious  manner,  but 
maintained  silence. 

"The  thing  is  easy,"  continued  Ransom.  "There 
ain't  a  big  story  to  tell.  There  ain't  much  to  learn. 
Bob  here  and  Pierson  can  get  together  and  make  their 
stories  fit  in,  and  you,  Moore,  can  get  up  two  or  three 
letters  from  Powers  to  Mrs.  Pierson,  which  old  Pier- 
son  can  copy  and  fix  up  as  if  they  were  old  ones,  don't 
you  see?" 


98  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"And  I  am  to  be  young  Dugdale,  am  I?"  asked 
Bob  viciously. 

"Yes,"  replied  he  of  the  soft  voice  calmly,  with  his 
eyes  sternly  fixed  on  the  young  man.  "When  you  get 
done  being  Harold  Pierson.  That  will  be  a  good  deal 
better  than  being  Allan  Mark  Everard." 

"Now,  drop  that!"  exclaimed  the  young  man 
angrily.  "I'm  in  this  game  and  I'll  see  it  out,  but  I 
won't  take  any  joking  from  you.  You've  had  your 
hands  on  me  once,  but  it's  for  the  last  time.  You 
mustn't  look  ugly  at  me,  nor  attempt  to  be  my  master. 
I'd  as  soon  die  as  have  such  a  hellhound  as  you 
are  on  top  of  me  for  my  life.  Meet  me  as  your  equal, 
or,  by  Heaven,  I'll  put  daylight  through  you  if  I  swing 
for  it!" 

Ransom  leaped  to  his  feet,  his  eyes  blazing  and  his 
face  livid.  With  a  spring  forward,  which  had  the 
litheness  and  stealthiness  of  a  tiger  in  it,  he  reached 
for  the  young  man's  throat.  But  this  time  Bob  was 
prepared.  His  left  fist  shot  straight  from  his  shoulder 
full  into  the  face  of  Ransom,  who  went  down  like  a 
log.  The  blow  and  the  fall  stunned  him.  Moore, 
thoroughly  frightened,  grasped  a  water-jug  and  threw 
its  contents  over  Ransom's  face.  The  shock  revived 
him,  and  with  restored  consciousness  he  realized  in 
stantly  what  had  occurred.  His  face  was  hideous 
under  the  workings  of  his  awful  passion.  He  made  a 
violent  effort  to  arise.  The  younger  man's  passion  was 
as  great.  With  his  foot  he  sent  Ransom  to  the  floor 
again,  standing  over  him  with  a  wicked  knife  in  his 
hand. 

With  a  frightful  oath,  uttered  from  between  his 
teeth,  Bob  cried: 

"You've  been  working  up  the  devil  in  me  for  a  long 
time,  and  by  Heaven,  if  you  stir  a  hand  or  say  a  word, 
I'll  put  this  knife  through  your  heart!" 

Ransom  knew  he  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  younger 
man.  Looking  up  into  Bob's  eyes,  he  saw  a  most  dan- 


A  PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN.  99 

gerous  light  blazing  in  them — a  murderous,  desperate, 
fiendish  light — and  he  knew  he  had  for  once  met  a 
spirit  which,  when  aroused,  was  more  wicked  than  his 
own.  For  the  first  time  since  Bob  had  fallen  under 
his  influence  he  respected  him.  Flat  on  his  back  he 
could  not  look  upward  without  encountering  those 
gleaming  eyes.  He  was  compelled  to  turn  away  from 
the  murderous  blaze,  from  that  handsome  face,  horri 
ble  now  under  the  workings  of  a  terrible  passion  which 
convulsed  it.  He  looked  to  Moore,  who  was  standing 
by,  frightened  into  helpless  impotence.  The  look  re 
called  Moore  to  himself. 

"This  is  no  way  to  begin  business,"  he  said  in 
answer  to  the  prostrate  man's  appeal.  "Bob,  let  Ran 
som  up." 

He  put  his  hand  upon  the  younger  man's  shoulder, 
and,  finding  he  was  not  repulsed,  gently  urged  him  into 
his  chair.  Then  he  assisted  Ransom  to  arise.  While 
this  was  being  done,  the  younger  man  never  removed 
his  eyes  from  the  face  of  Ransom,  but  remained  hold 
ing  his  knife  in  his  hand  in  a  threatening  manner. 

There  was  a  rap  at  the  door.  Moore  hastened  to  it. 
Someone  hearing  the  noise  came  to  ask  if  an  accident 
had  occurred.  Assuring  the  inquirer  that  one  of  his 
visitors  had  fallen  without  injury  to  himself  he  closed 
the  door  again.  The  two  men  were  sitting  on  oppo 
site  sides  of  the  room  glaring  at  each  other  when  he 
turned. 

"Well,"  said  Moore,  perceiving  that  active  hostili 
ties  had  ceased.  "What  does  this  mean?  Does  the 
whole  thing  drop  because  you  two  have  quarreled?" 

"I  have  not  quarreled,"  replied  Ransom,  forcing 
himself  into  composure. 

Gaining  courage  as  he  proceeded,  Moore  took  upon 
himself  the  role  of  peacemaker. 

"Someone  has,"  he  said.  "Put  up  that  knife, 
Bob;  Ransom  won't  hurt  you." 

"No,  I  don't  think  he  will,"  answered  the  young 


100  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

man,  with  an  oath.  "But  he  must  learn  I  am  not  tc 
be  fooled  with.  I  know  he  has  got  the  head  and  I  am 
willing  to  follow  him,  but  that  don't  make  me  his 
slave.  He  mustn't  treat  me  as  such.  If  he  has  got 
his  lesson  we  can  go  on  with  the  business." 

While  Ransom  realized  that  he  had  at  last  met  one 
he  had  cause  to  stand  in  fear  of,  he  also  realized  thai- 
it  would  never  do  to  permit  Bob,  or  anyone  else  in 
fact,  to  see  such  was  the  case,  for  his  leadership  among 
his  companions  -was  yielded  him  quite  as  much  by 
reason  of  the  fear  he  excited  as  by  reason  of  the  recog 
nition  of  his  mental  superiority. 

He  therefore  arose  from  his  chair  and  walked 
toward  the  young  man.  He  did  not  intend  to  be 
menacing  in  his  manner,  but  he  overacted  his  part. 
Bob  sprang  to  his  feet,  pulled  his  knife  and  cried  with 
a  frightful  oath: 

"Have  I  got  to  kill  you  before  you  know  me?" 

Moore  sprang  between  them,  but  Ransom  put  him 
aside  and  said  sternly:  "Bob,  put  up  your  toothpick. 
You're  making  a  fool  of  yourself.  Let  us  get  to 
business." 

It  no  doubt  required  a  great  deal  of  brute  courage 
to  pass  within  arm's  length  of  that  murderous  knife, 
held  by  an  enraged  man,  but  he  did  so  without  a 
quiver,  and  passed  on  to  the  table,  at  which  he  sat 
himself  with  his  back  to  the  young  man,  and  took  up 
a  pencil. 

"Where  does  this  man  Mason  live,  Bob?"  he  asked 
calmly. 

The  coolness  and  self-possession,  as  well  as  the 
indifference  to  his  passion,  displayed  by  Ransom, 
calmed  Bob  by  surprising  him  and  indeed  secured  his 
admiration.  He  was  so  long  in  replying  that  Ransom 
was  compelled  to  repeat  his  question. 

"At  No. East  Twenty-eighth  Street." 

"What's  his  business  place?" 

"No. Cliff  Street,  Hetlow,  Altmount  &  Co. 


A   PLAN  OF  CAMPAIGN.  IOI 

"I'll  bring  Pierson  here  to-morrow  night,"  he  said 
io  Moore;  then  turning  to  the  young  man,  he  said: 
"You  be  here  at  eight  o'clock  to-morrow  night,  Bob; 
I  shan't  see  you  until  then." 

Without  another  word  he  took  his  hat  and  went  out 
of  the  door.  Moore  and  the  young  man  listened  to 
him  as  he  slowly  and  deliberately  descended  the  stairs. 
They  listened  until  they  heard  the  front  door  close 
upon  him,  when  Moore,  turning  to  the  young  man,  said 
with  a  laugh  in  which  there  was  the  quality  of  relief. 

"What  a  hothead  you  are!" 

"It  was  coming,"  replied  Bob,  in  a  surly  tone. 
"He  must  learn  that  I've  been  a  gentleman  once,  if 
I  am  crooked  now.  I  won't  take  anything  from  him. 
I'm  not  a  slave." 

"Well,  you  frightened  him  for  once  in  his  life." 

"No,  I  didn't,"  replied  Bob;  "he  didn't  weaken 
once.  He  stopped  because  it  would  interfere  with 
business." 

"You're  mistaken,"  persisted  Moore.  "For  the 
first  time  in  his  life  Ransom  was  frightened.  From 
this  out  he  will  fear  you.  He  will  pretend  he  doesn't 
and  perhaps  will  act  so,  but  he's  afraid  of  you." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  said  the  young  man  with  a 
glad,  proud  glance  in  his  eyes. 

"I  know  it.      Now  don't  you  go  to  trading  on  if 
but  hold  your  grip  now  you've  got  it." 

Moore  was  not  displeased  to  find  that  there  was  one 
among  them,  of  whom  the  man  who  had  terrorized 
aver  them  all  stood  in  fear. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PLAYING    THE    KNAVE. 

MASON,  after  his  excursion  to  West  Point  with  Lord 
Merrimount,  was  depressed  and  apprehensive.  Every 
thing  tended  to  confirm  him  in  the  belief  that  the 
young  nobleman's  mission  was  to  secure  the  hand  of 
Bessie,  provided  she  was  in  fact  the  heir  to  the  Dug- 
dale  millions.  Though  he  was  quite  certain,  after  his 
conversation  with  Merrimount,  that  no  sentiment  was 
involved  in  the  young  nobleman's  plans,  and  that  he 
paid  no  more  attention  to  Bessie  than  any  polite  and 
well  bred  young  man  would  do,  being  a  guest  in  her 
father's  house,  still  he  did  not  fail  to  recognize  the 
formidable  character  of  the  rivalry  he  was  certain  to 
encounter.  On  Merrimount's  side  was  ambition,  '"anK, 
distinction,  and  the  sanction  of  the  father,  family  influ 
ence,  and  the  pressure  of  opinion  within  the  circle  in 
which  Bessie  moved.  These  influences,  he  thought, 
even  exerted  passively,  would  be  influential,  and,  he 
feared,  controlling.  While  upon  his  own  side,  was 
only  his  deep  and  passionate  love  for  Bessie,  not  even 
declared,  and  which,  if  declared,  would  doubtless  meet 
with  the  determined  opposition  of  Mr.  Hetlow.  And 
over  and  above  all  was  the  growing  conviction  that  the 
prospect  of  sudden  and  vast  enrichment  was  having 
a  baleful  influence  upon  Bessie  herself.  The  only 
course  open  to  him  to  follow,  which  would  seem  to 
lead  to  anything  like  success,  was  a  vigorous  prosecu 
tion  of  the  search  for  young  Dugdale,  the  successful 
end  of  which  seemed  now  to  be  far  away. 

it  was  thus  that  he  was  musing,  as  he  was  seated 


PLAYING    THE  KNAVE.  103 

at  his  desk  in  his  office,  when  a  messenger  announced 
to  him  that  a  man  named  Ransom  desired  to  see  him. 

"Admit  him,"  said  Dick,  arousing  himself  from  his 
gloomy  reverie. 

When  his  visitor  entered  he  was  distinctly  conscious 
of  a  feeling  of  distrust  and  aversion.  But  as  unfavor 
able  as  was  the  first  impression,  no  sooner  did  Ransom 
reveal  his  business  than  all  such  sensations  were  lost 
in  the  eager  desire  to  know  what  Ransom  had  to  tell. 

"For  some  days,"  Ransom  began,  as  he  seated  him 
self  in  the  chair  indicated  by  Dick,  "I  have  been 
noticing  advertisements  in  the  papers,  asking  anyone 
having  knowledge  of  Edmund  Dugdale  to  call  upon 
you.  I  suppose  I  am  speaking  to  Mr.  Richard 
Mason?" 

Dick  eagerly  assured  him  that  he  was. 

"Well,  the  man  is  dead,"  briefly  continued  Ran 
som. 

"We  know  that,"  murmured  Dick,  "and  that  he 
died  in  1858,  but  we  want  to  know  all  we  can  about 
his  life  and  associations  when  he  was  alive." 

"It  is  very  little  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Ransom. 
"That's  what  kept  me  from  coming  before — I  had  so 
little  to  say.  But  that  'ad'  kept  turning  up  before 
me  and  so  I  thought  I'd  come." 

"Anything,  however  trivial  it  may  appear  to  you, 
might  be  important  to  us,"  urged  Dick. 

"Well,  I  was  a  boy,"  Ransom  went  on,  as  he  crossed 
his  legs  and  supported  his  elbows  on  the  arms  of  the 
office  chair,  bringing  the  tips  of  his  fingers  together, 
thus  attracting  Dick's  attention  to  his  beautiful  white 
hand,  "I  was  a  boy,  I  say,  in  the  office  of  the  Courier 
and  Inquirer \  when  Dugdale  was  employed  there,  and 
sometimes  ran  errands  for  him.  That's  the  way  I  got 
to  going  to  his  rooms.  He  lived  in  Macdougall  Street. 
He  was  a  shy,  reserved  fellow,  as  I  recollect  him,  and 
very  poor." 

"All   you  say  comports  with  the  information  \ve 


104  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

have  received,"  remarked  Dick.  "Did  you  know  the 
name  of  the  people  with  whom  he  lodged  in  Mac- 
dougall  Street?" 

"Yes;  the  name  was  Powers.  I  knew  the  family. 
I  think  he  went  to  lodge  there  through  me.  Powers 
was  a  morocco-finisher,  and  soon  after  Dugdale's  death 
moved  to  Newark.  He  died  there  some  nine  or  ten 
years  ago.  His  wife  is  dead,  too." 

"She  dead,  too!"  exclaimed  Dick,  much  disap 
pointed. 

"Yes,  she  died  a  year  after  Powers.  Died  here  in 
New  York.  They  had  two  daughters,  both  married. 
I  don't  know  what  has  become  of  them." 

"Did  you  know  of  any  intimate  friends  that  the 
Dugdales  had?" 

"Well,  unless  you  could  call  a  Mrs.  Tomlinson  and 
a  man  named  Barber,  who  were  in  the  theatrical  line, 
friends,  I  don't  think  they  had  any.  I  saw  an  item  in 
the  paper  the  other  day  about  an  old  man  named  Bar 
ber  who  had  been  a  ballet-dancer,  who  died,  and  I've 
been  wondering  if  that  fellow  was  the  same  one." 

"Yes,  he  was  the  same  man,"  answered  Dick.  "Do 
you  know  whether  Mrs.  Tomlinson  is  alive  and,  if  she 
is,  where  she  lives?" 

"I  do  not.  I  don't  know  anything  more  about  her, 
than  that  she  cared  for  Dugdale's  baby  a  good  deal 
after  Mrs.  Dugdale's  death." 

"Oh,  then  you  know  there  was  a  child?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"It  disappeared  before  the  father's  death,  didn't 
it?" 

"No,  it  didn't  disappear.  The  Tomlinson  woman 
took  it." 

"It  disappeared  after  the  father's  death." 

"No;  the  Tomlinson  woman  brought  it  back  to  the 
Powers  people  and  they  put  it  out  for  adoption  to 
someone." 

"Do  you  know  to  whom?" 


PLAYING   THE  KNAVE.  105 

"Well,  I  heard  the  name  at  the  time,  but  I've  for 
gotten  it  now." 

By  this  time  Dick  had  taken  the  hook  firmly. 
Ransom  had  played  his  part  with  great  skill.  He  had 
not  known  too  much,  and  he  had  not  been  eager  to 
recollect  too  much.  And  it  was  just  about  what  the 
recollections  of  a  boy,  having  the  relations  to  Dug- 
dale  he  described  himself  to  have,  would  naturally 
have  been. 

With  no  little  excitement  Dick  asked  if  it  were  not 
possible  for  him  to  arouse  his  memory  on  that  point, 
which  he  told  Ransom  was  the  essential  point. 

"Perhaps,"  replied  Ransom  doubtfully;  "it's  a 
good  many  years  since  I  thought  of  these  things. 
Perhaps  I  might.  I  can  try.  It  runs  in  my  head  that 
the  man  was  a  lawyer." 

"We  have  heard  he  was  in  the  shipping  business." 

"Who  says  that?"  asked  Ransom  sharply  and 
quickly. 

Had  Dick  not  been  so  much  engrossed  with  his  own 
thoughts,  he  would  have  noticed  the  difference  in 
tone  and  the  sudden  alertness  of  Ransom's  eyes,  in 
sharp  contrast  with  his  carefully  preserved  expression 
of  indifference.  As  it  was,  he  did  not  even  heed  the 
question,  but  went  on  to  say: 

"I  wish  you  would  try  to  recollect  the  name.  And 
we  should  be  very  glad  to — to  pay  you  for — the 
trouble  you  have  been  put  to." 

Ransom,  however,  refused  this,  and  somewhat 
brusquely.  He  went  away  saying  he  would  try  to 
recollect,  and  if  he  did  he  would  write  to  Mr.  Mason. 

As  he  reached  the  door,  he  met  Mr.  Stanton  enter 
ing.  The  old  lawyer  looked  Ransom  steadfastly  in  the 
face  as  they  passed,  and  on  joining  Dick  at  his  desk, 
said: 

"That  is  a  thoroughpaced  rascal,  if  there  ever  was 
one.  Who  is  he?" 

"Rascal  or  not,"  lightly    laughed    Dick,    highly 


106  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

pleased,  "he  brings  most  valuable  information.  He 
knew  the  Powerses  as  well  as  Dugdale.  He  says  that 
both  Powers  and  his  wife  are  dead.  He  knows  of  the 
adoption  of  the  child,  and,  though  he  has  now  forgotten 
the  name  of  the  person  taking  it,  thinks  he  can  in  time 
recall  it." 

"What  does  he  want  for  his  information?"  grumbled 
Mr.  Stanton. 

"Nothing,"  replied  Dick.  "Rather,  he  resented 
the  idea  of  being  paid." 

"Umph!" 

The  old  lawyer's  intuitions  warned  him  to  distrust 
the  man  and  his  professions.  The  fact  that  Ransom's 
face  was  a  bad  one  did  not,  after  all,  argue  his  infor 
mation  was  not  of  value.  He  questioned  Dick  closely 
as  to  what  Ransom  had  said,  and  at  the  end  added  : 

"If  true,  what  he  says  is  valuable.  Part  of  it  we 
know  to  be  true,  possibly  it  may  all  be  true.  But  act 
with  great  caution  on  all  he  says." 

He  sat  silent  for  some  moments,  and  then  began 
abruptly : 

"I  have  something  to  say  to  you,  Mason.  I  sup 
pose  people  would  call  it  a  delicate  matter,  but  you 
are  a  sensible  man,  and  when  you  hear  what  I  have  to 
say  and  my  reasons,  I  don't  think  you  will  take 
offense,  but  will  meet  me  in  the  same  manly  spirit  I 
am  approaching  you  in." 

Although  their  acquaintance  was  of  short  duration, 
comparatively,  still  they  had  been  thrown  together  so 
frequently  and  closely  that  Dick  had  become  accus 
tomed  to  the  old  lawyer's  odd  and  abrupt  manners. 
Moreover,  he  had  a  sincere  and  respectful  liking  for 
Mr.  Stanton.  So  he  replied : 

"I  shall  not  resent  anything  you  may  say  to  me, 
Mr.  Stanton." 

"Well,"  continued  the  lawyer,  "here  it  is.  When 
you  first  began  to  come  to  our  place,  from  the  way  you 
and  Wallis  drifted  together,  the  idea  occurred  to  me 


PLAYING   THE  KNAVE.  107 

that  you  had  an  attraction  for  each  other.  I  was  sat 
isfied.  I  had  formed  a  good  opinion  of  you,  and  the 
inquiries  touching  your  habits  and  character,  which  I 
thought  in  the  interest  of  Wallis  it  was  my  duty  to 
make,  confirmed  it." 

Dick  was  highly  amused,  but  he  did  not  interrupt 
Mr.  Stanton. 

"But  last  night  Mrs.  Stanton  informed  me  I  was 
wholly  mistaken.  From  Wallis  she  had  learned  that 
you  entertained  an  affection  for  Hetlow's  girl — an 
affection  of  long  standing  which  is  reciprocated  by 
Bessie,  but  opposed  by  Hetlow.  And  that  the  motive 
lying  at  the  bottom  of  your  search  is  the  obtaining  of 
Hetlow's  consent." 

"There  is  truth  and  error  in  your  statement,"  inter 
jected  Dick. 

"Permit  me  to  state  my  case,"  urged  Mr.  Stanton. 
"  Now  I  have  thrown  myself  heartily  into  the  effort  to 
assist  you  in  this  search,  and  I  am  giving  you  aid  and 
comfort  by  having  you  at  my  house.  I  am  a  neighbor 
of  Mr.  Hetlow,  and  have  made  professions  of  friend 
ship  for  him.  I  don't  want  to  be  placed  in  a  false 
position.  While  pretending  to  be  his  friend,  I  don't 
want  to  be  open  to  the  charge  of  playing  a  treacherous 
part,  as  I  would  be,  if  knowing  of  your  suit  and  his 
opposition,  I  were  to  continue  to  afford  you  the  oppor 
tunity  to  communicate  with  Bessie.  I  don't  want  you 
to  stop  coming  to  my  house.  You  are  only  too  wel 
come.  But,  if  this  statement  is  a  true  bill,  I  want 
permission  to  explain  my  position  to  Hetlow.  I 
didn't  want  to  say  these  things  to  you  in  my  own 
house,  so  I  have  come  to  you  here,  for  a  frank  under 
standing  between  us." 

Notwithstanding  Dick's  assurance  in  the  beginning 
that  he  would  take  no  offense,  he  nevertheless  did  feel 
his  heat  rising  as  the  old  lawyer  talked.  But  making 
the  effort  to  curb  his  annoyance,  he  was  enabled  to 
think  upon  the  matter  calmly  for  a  moment  or  two, 


Io8  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

and  when  he  did,  he  saw  clearly  that  Mr.  Stanton  was 
right  in  the  position  he  had  assumed. 

"I  will  have  to  state  the  matter  as  it  really  is,"  Dick 
said,  after  a  moment's  reflection.  "It  is  true  that  I 
have  an  affection  for  Bessie  Hetlow.  It  is  of  long 
standing.  It  would  be  difficult  for  me  to  tell  when 
that  attachment  did  not  exist.  It  began  when  I  first 
met  her,  when  she  was  a  child  and  I  a  mere  boy. 
Uncle  Tom,  who  secured  me  a  place  with  Hetlow, 
Altmount  &  Co.,  was  an  old  and  attached  friend  of 
Mr.  Hetlow.  As  I  say  I  used  to  go  to  the  Hetlow 
house.  My  love  for  Bessie  has  been  the  best  senti 
ment  of  my  heart  all  these  years — perhaps  my  incen 
tive  to  win  a  place  for  myself.  But  whether  that  sen 
timent  is  reciprocated,  I  am  unable  to  state.  Not 
long  ago  I  flattered  myself  it  was,  but  recently  certain 
events  have  led  me  to  doubt  whether  her  interest  in 
me  is  any  more  than  a  friendly  one,  born  of  long 
acquaintance.  While  I  have  been  at  no  pains  to  con 
ceal  the  regard  I  have  for  her,  I  have  said  no  words  of 
love  to  her,  nor  have  I  asked  for  her  love  in  return. 
Mr.  Hetlow  does  not  disapprove  of  my  suit,  for  no  suit 
has  been  actually  made.  He  does  not  oppose,  be 
cause,  if  for  no  other  reason, he  does  not  imagine  there 
is  anything  to  oppose.  I  have  the  right,  at  this  time, 
to  assume  that  he  will  make  no  opposition.  The  idea 
that  he  would  make  opposition  is  based  upon  the  fact 
that,  a  few  years  ago,  Mr.  Hetlow  intimated  to  me  that 
it  was  not  the  proper  thing  for  a  junior  clerk  to  seek 
to  enter  his  employer's  house  upon  terms  of  social 
equality.  I  resented  this,  in  the  only  way  I  could,  by 
refusing  to  enter  his  house  at  all,  except  when  busi 
ness  requirements  compelled  it.  At  the  time,  I  could 
not  see  why  a  boy  could  be  admitted  to  the  run  of  the 
house,  and  a  junior  clerk  could  not.  When  I  was 
older  I  reasoned  that  Mr.  Hetlow  saw  danger  likely  to 
arise  from  permitting  a  young  man  to  associate  with  a 
young  lady,  his  daughter,  when  there  was  none  while 


PLAYING    THE  KNAVE,  1 09 

they  were  boy  and  girl.  This  being  the  true  interpre 
tation  of  his  meaning,  it  followed  logically  that  he 
opposed  even  the  possibility  of  an  interest  growing  up 
between  Bessie  and  myself.  True,  I  am  not  now  a 
junior  clerk.  I  am  the  head  of  the  most  important 
department  of  the  house,  and,  it  is  not  too  much  to 
say,  the  trusted  lieutenant  of  the  house.  I  have  been 
advanced  rapidly,  and  by  the  favor  of  Mr.  Hetlow. 
True  also  that  within  a  few  days  I  have  been  invited  to 
his  table  upon  terms  of  social  equality,  but  you  will 
please  mark  this  fact — at  a  time  when  a  most  eligible 
suitor,  who  can  offer  to  his  bride  the  highest  social 
distinction,  is  in  the  house,  ostentatiously  there  with 
the  approval  of  the  father  as  a  preferred  suitor. 

"Now,"  continued  Dick,  "as  to  the  search.  I  did 
not  seek  to  make  it.  I  did  not  even  offer  my  services. 
I  was  requested  to  undertake  it,  and  in  such  manner 
that,  had  I  refused  to  comply,  my  refusal  would  have 
been  taken  as  a  reflection  upon  Mr.  Hetlow.  I  will 
confess  to  you  that  I  was  alarmed  at  the  prospect  of 
Miss  Hetlow's  inheriting  all  this  money.  I  saw  that 
with  such  immense  wealth  she  would  move  into  cir 
cles  and  into  conditions  which  would  put  her  beyond 
my  reach.  But  whether  or  not  that  consideration  had 
weight  with  me,  the  fact  remains  I  was  instructed  to 
undertake  the  search — an  energetic  search,  leaving 
nothing  undone,  and  to  protect  the  honor  of  Mr.  Het 
low  against  himself,  who  feared  he  might  be  betrayed 
into  failing  to  exert  all  the  requisite  energy.  The 
further  fact  is  patent.  Whatever  may  be  the  motives 
inspiring  me  to  successful  effort,  the  result  of  my 
labors  is  in  the  line  of  Mr.  Hetlow's  desires  and  tends 
to  an  entirely  proper  end.  I  am  not  enough  of  a 
moral  philosopher  to  get  beyond  the  facts.  It  may  be 
argued  that  having  so  direct  an  interest  in  the  finding 
of  Dugdale,  I  should  not  be  engaged  in  the  effort.  If 
that  is  so,  it  is  a  matter  which  is  between  myself  and 
my  honor;  it  does  not  touch  the  end  sought  by  Mr. 


110  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Hetlow.  More  than  that — influenced  as  I  am,  though 
Dugdale  is  not  found,  there  is  assurance  in  the  fact 
that  nothing  has  been  left  untried  or  undone  to  find 
him.  And  here  I  will  also  confess,  that  since  Lord 
Merrimount  has  presented  himself  as  a  conditional 
suitor  for  the  hand  of  Bessie,  and  believing  as  I  do 
that  he  will  return  without  a  formal  request  for  her 
hand  if  Dugdale  is  found,  I  have  redoubled  my  ener 
gies." 

As  he  talked  Dick  had  been  sitting  at  his  desk  with 
his  left  arm  leaning  upon  it,  as  he  gesticulated  with  his 
right.  On  reaching  this  point,  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and 
standing  upright  before  Mr.  Stanton,  who  was  still 
seated,  with  an  expression  of  stern  determination  on 
his  face,  from  which  it  was  usually  his  trained  habit 
to  chase  all  expression,  he  said  firmly: 

"I  will  further  say  that  I  love  Miss  Hetlow  with  all 
my  strength,  and  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  at  pres 
ent,  she  seems  to  regard  me  with  disfavor,  and  not 
withstanding  that  I  believe  Mr.  Hetlow  will  oppose 
our  union  if  the  proposition  is  submitted  to  him,  and 
notwithstanding  the  presence  of  Lord  Merrimount,  I 
will  do  all  that  becomes  a  man  to  win  her  heart  and 
her  hand." 

As  he  said  this  he  saw  the  shadow  of  a  woman  start 
ing  swiftly  past  the  painted  glass  which  formed  part  of 
the  partition  which  made  his  individual  office,  but  he 
was  too  much  engrossed  in  his  own  words  to  heed  it. 

The  old  lawyer  arose  with  an  expression  of  admira 
tion  upon  his  face,  but  his  words  were  at  variance  with 
such  admiration. 

"Your  statement  of  the  case  differs  widely  from 
that  which  I  received,"  he  said.  "There  is  now  a 
perplexing  moral  question  in  it.  And  there  must 
arise  to  the  lawyer's  mind  this  point — moved  as  you 
are,  is  not  Mr.  Hetlow  in  danger  of  having  a  Dugdale 
presented  to  him?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Dick  sternly. 


PLAYING   THE  KNAVS.  Ill 

"Nothing  you  need  grow  warm  over,"  quickly 
replied  Mr.  Stanton.  "I  think  I  have  judged  you 
accurately  enough  to  be  assured  that  you  would  never 
be  guilty  of  such  an  intrigue,  but  if  this  statement  was 
presented  to  a  lawyer,  without  knowledge  of  the  kind 
of  man  conducting  the  search,  the  fear  would  instantly 
rise  in  his  mind,  that  with  such  an  incentive  as  you 
have  admitted,  there  was  a  danger  to  be  guarded 
against — that  an  heir  would  be  presented,  whether 
Dugdale  was  alive  or  dead,  discovered  or  undiscov 
ered." 

Dick  turned  pale  under  this  suggestion. 

"I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing,"  he  gasped 
faintly. 

"I  know  you  never  did,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  with  a 
laugh.  "The  very  fact  that  you  have  been  frank 
enough  to  confess  your  motives  puts  that  supposition 
out  of  the  case.  Don't  let  that  worry  you,  but  go  on 
with  your  work.  As  the  matter  stands  I  do  not  see 
that  I  am  called  upon  to  interfere.  I  will  stand  by 
you  at  every  turn  of  the  matter." 

Putting  out  his  hand  he  took  Dick's  in  a  strong 
grasp,  and  said  : 

"As  you  are  protecting  the  honor  of  Mr.  Hetlow 
against  himself,  I  will  protect  your  honor  against  your 
self.  Don't  let  this  free  talk  alter  any  of  the  present 
conditions." 

He  departed,  leaving  Dick  considerably  shaken  by 
the  interview.  Shortly  after,  Dick  went  into  the 
street,  and  in  time  to  receive  from  Bessie  Hetlow  a 
polite  recognition  as  she  entered  the  carriage  witb  her 
father. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A    PERVERSE    MAIDEN. 

DAYS  passed,  and  as  nothing  was  heard  from  Ran 
som,  Dick  began  to  lose  faith,  and  addressed  himself 
with  greater  energy  to  spreading  far  and  wide  adver 
tisements  calling  for  information  as  to  the  Powerses. 

During  this  time  he  had  several  conversations  with 
Mr.  Hetlow  upon  the  subject  of  the  search,  and  he 
thought  he  had  discovered  a  suppressed  impatience 
upon  the  part  of  the  old  merchant  that  no  conclusion 
was  reached.  In  the  last  one  the  merchant  had  said: 

"The  time  must  come  when  further  search  will  not 
only  be  useless,  but  unjust  to  my  daughter.  I  am 
convinced  that  I  will  be  justified  in  taking  steps  to 
place  my  daughter  in  possession  of  the  property,  if,  at 
the  expiration  of  a  year  from  the  time  the  search  was 
undertaken,  no  trace  of  young  Dugdale  is  found." 

It  was  clear  Mr.  Hetlow  did  not  believe  the  search 
would  result  in  finding  the  heir. 

Dick  made  no  response  to  this  remark.  Noting 
what  he  conceived  to  be  the  growing  impatience  of  Mr. 
Hetlow,  he  attributed  it  to  a  desire  to  further  the  pos 
sible  alliance  between  the  houses  of  Mountchessington 
and  Hetlow,  which  would  only  become  probable  in  the 
event  of  Bessie's  inheriting  the  property. 

As  disturbing  as  the  thought  was,  he  nevertheless 
took  comfort  in  the  implied  promise  that  he  should 
have  a  full  year  in  which  to  work  out  this  problem, 
although  further  disturbed  by  a  fear  as  to  what  the 
consequences  might  be  of  a  close  and  daily  association 
between  Lord  Merrimount  and  Bessie,  should  the 


A   PERVERSE  MAIDEN,  113 

young  nobleman  continue  to  be  the  guest  of  Mr.  Het- 
low  during  that  year. 

Five  days  had  passed  since  he  and  Mr.  Stanton  had 
had  their  free  talk,  and  he  had  heard  nothing  from  the 
old  lawyer.  He  was  sitting  at  his  desk  in  his  office 
endeavoring  to  invent  some  valid  excuse  for  his  go 
ing  to  Spring  Hill,  when  a  letter  from  Wallis  was 
put  into  his  hands.  Mr.  Stanton  desired  to  see  him 
and  had  instructed  Wallis  to  write  him,  suggesting  that 
Dick  should  put  in  an  appearance  as  soon  as  possible 
and  come  prepared  for  a  stay  of  several  days. 

Tortured  as  he  was  by  doubts  as  to  the  sentiment 
of  Bessie  with  regard  to  himself,  and  by  fears  as  to 
the  influence  Merrimount's  daily  contact  would  exert 
upon  her,  he  eagerly  determined  to  comply,  and  to 
carry  the  acceptance  of  Mr.  Stanton's  invitation  in 
his  own  person  and  at  once. 

As  a  consequence  he  arrived  at  Spring  Hill  at  an 
hour  when  he  was  not  expected.  The  family  were 
gone  upon  a  day's  excursion  on  the  river,  upon  Mr. 
Hetlow's  steam  yacht.  This,  however,  led  to  no  em 
barrassment,  for  he  was  already  on  the  footing  of  a 
frequent  and  favored  guest  in  the  Stanton  household. 
Left  to  his  own  amusement  he  started  out  for  a  stroll. 
His  thoughts  tended  naturally  and  inevitably  to  the 
misunderstanding  which  had  arisen  between  himself 
and  Bessie,  and  as  to  what  could  be  done  to  bring 
matters  back  to  the  old  ground.  Though  Wallis  had 
confidently  promised  to  clear  the  atmosphere,  appar 
ently  she  had  failed.  And  because  of  this  apparent 
failure  Dick  concluded  that  her  interpretation  of  Bes 
sie's  singular  attitude  to  himself  was  not  the  true  one, 
and  that  there  was  some  other  reason,  of  which  neither 
he  nor  she  had  a  conception. 

As  he  strolled  on  he  also  determined  that  while  he 
was  staying  at  Spring  Hill  he  would  seek  an  oppor 
tunity  to  bring  matters  to  an  issue;  to  force  an  ex 
planation  from  Bessie,  and  to  demand  from  her  tha 


H4  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

right  and  occasion  to  defend  himself.  If  the  offense 
Bessie  held  he  had  committed  was  explainable,  he 
would  explain  it;  if  he  had  unwittingly  offended  her, 
he  would  admit  the  offense  and  apologize;  if  she 
were  obdurate  and  resolved  to  end  their  relations,  he 
would  bow  to  the  inevitable,  and  retire  from  further 
struggle  against  her  injustice,  but  he  would  no  longer 
continue  in  the  condition  of  doubt  and  anxiety  which 
had  become  torture  to  him. 

As  he  thus  planned  his  course,  he  had  wandered 
in  the  direction  of  the  river,  and  had  reached  the 
rocks,  beyond  the  tunnel  overhanging  the  water.  The 
shining  river  placidly  flowing  under  the  sun  and  bear 
ing  the  lazy  sail  upon  its  bosom,  unruffled  by  the 
slightest  breath  of  wind,  presented  a  restful  picture 
and  invited  him  to  the  contemplation  of  a  repose  to 
which  his  mind  had  been  a  stranger  for  many  days. 
Yielding  to  its  influence,  he  rested  his  elbows  upon 
a  jutting  rock  extending  beyond  the  line  of  the  shore, 
and  with  his  head  upon  his  hands  dreamily  viewed  the 
peaceful  scene. 

His  attention,  however,  was  taken  by  a  discordant 
shout  beneath  him,  and  looking  down,  he  saw  a  small 
rowboat,  with  three  men  in  it,  one  of  whom  was  stand 
ing  in  the  bow,  ready  to  spring  on  to  land  when  the 
boat  reached  the  shore.  Though  the  distance  was 
great,  he  thought  he  recognized  in  the  standing  man 
one  employed  by  Mr.  Hetlow  at  "The  Larches,"  who 
had  impressed  himself  upon  him  by  his  ill-favored  face. 
The  man  who  was  pulling  the  bow  oar  turned  his  head 
to  see  how  the  other  would  make  his  landing,  thus 
presenting  a  side  face  to  view,  when  with  a  start  Dick 
thought  he  recognized  the  features  of  Ransom,  who  had 
called  upon  him  five  days  previously.  At  this  mo 
ment  the  man  lifted  his  head,  saw  Dick,  turned  away 
quickly,  and  though  the  one  who  had  leaped  to  shore 
turned  his  face  to  those  in  the  boat,  the  man  at  the  bow 
oar  said  something  to  the  other  and  they  pulled  sharply 


A  PERVERSE  MAIDEN.  1 15 

into  the  river,  turned,  and  in  an  instant  were  lost  to 
view  behind  a  projecting  bowlder. 

Why  the  incident,  which  was  not  a  significant  one, 
should  have  caused  the  sensation  Dick  was  conscious 
of  experiencing,  and  just  what  that  sensation  was,  Dick 
would  have  been  put  to  great  trouble  to  explain.  Re 
flection  showed  him  that  he  was  by  no  means  sure  the 
man  was  Ransom,  and  even  if  it  were,  there  was  no  rea 
son  to  regard  it  as  important,  or  as  having  any  bear 
ing  upon  the  matter  he  had  in  hand.  The  direct  effect 
of  it  was,  however,  to  divert  him  from  the  peaceful 
scene,  and  he  wandered  on.  Turning  a  point  of  the 
rock  along  which  he  knew  there  was  a  path,  and 
among  which  rocks  there  was  a  recess  and  a  natural 
seat  much  favored  by  Wallis,  he  suddenly  came  upon 
the  one  who  had  to  such  an  extent  occupied  his  thoughts 
that  afternoon. 

When  she  looked  up  to  see  who  was  the  intruder  upon 
her  solitude,  it  was  evident  she  was  as  much  surprised 
to  look  upon  him  as  he  was  to  find  her  there.  He 
had  supposed  she  was  with  the  yachting  party.  She 
had  no  knowledge  he  was  expected  at  Spring  Hill. 

As  he  saluted  her,  he  expressed  surprise  that  she  was 
not  upon  the  river  with  her  father.  On  her  part  she 
replied,  with  some  constraint  of  manner,  that  a  severe 
headache  had  prevented  her  going  in  the  morning,  but 
recovering,  she  had  strolled  out  for  the  air  in  the 
afternoon. 

Here  was  the  opportunity  ready  made  for  which 
Dick  had  only  ten  minutes  previously  firmly  determined 
he  would  diligently  seek.  Yet,  now  that  it  was  pre 
cipitated  upon  him,  from  being  a  young  man  noted  for 
the  promptness  with  which  he  seized  passing  oppor 
tunities,  he  passed  into  one  without  wits  and  with 
nothing  to  say. 

Perhaps  it  was  his  silence  which  embarrassed  Bessie, 
for  neither  could  she  find  words  for  a  tongue  usually 
most  voluble.  The  situation  was  awkward.  Realizing 


Il6  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

this,  Dick  essayed  to  relieve  it,  and  rushed  into  his  first 
blunder. 

"I  had  determined,"  he  said,  after  an  effort,  "on 
coming  here  to  seek  from  you  an  explanation  of  your 
singular  conduct  toward  myself." 

Bessie  resented  the  adjective.  While  the  awkward 
silence  had  lasted  she  had  been  looking  up  the  river, 
her  face  averted,  but,  with  Dick's  words,  she  lifted  it  to 
him,  her  color  rising  and  indignation  shining  in  her 
lovely  blue  eyes.  It  was  so  like  a  man  to  charge  upon 
a  woman  a  fault  that  was  his  own.  She  had  only  re 
sented  his  singular  treatment  of  herself,  in  a  proper 
and  womanly  spirit. 

"Singular!"  she  repeated,  sarcasm  in  her  tones.  "I 
did  not  know  people  regarded  my  conduct  as  sin 
gular." 

"It  has  been  to  me,"  replied  Dick,  noting  with  ad 
miration  how  pure  was  the  profile  of  her  face  outlined 
against  the  dark  deep  blue  of  the  sky.  "I  have  been 
made  to  feel  keenly  the  weight  of  your  displeasure — " 

He  hesitated  long  enough  to  give  Bessie  the  sug 
gestion  that  he  was  selecting  his  words  with  care. 

"And,"  he  went  on,  "so  far  as  I  am  able  to  perceive, 
without  good  or  sufficient  reason." 

Poor  Dick!  he  had  stumbled  from  one  blunder  into 
another.  In  his  nervousness,  and  in  his  determina 
tion  to  arrive  at  an  understanding,  nerving  himself  for 
an  effort,  he  had  assumed  a  severity  of  tone  and  a 
sternness  of  manner  he  was  far  from  intending. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Bessie,  straightening  herself  up  with 
an  excess  of  dignity,  "before  we  enter  upon  that  expla 
nation  you  are  so  pleasantly"  (severe  stress  on  "pleas 
antly")  '  'demanding,  you  will  inform  me  who  conferred 
upon  you  the  authority  you  so  frequently  exercise  to 
censure  and  reprimand  me?" 

"I  censure  you — reprimand?"  stammered  Dick, 
overwhelmed,  "surely  you  do  not  accuse  me  of  such 
audacity." 


A    PERVERSE  MAIDEN.  II? 

"You  have  just  chosen  to  tell  me  my  conduct  :,;j 
singular — that  I  have  conducted  myself  without  rea 
son,"  returned  Bessie,  following  up  sharply  her  advan 
tage.  "And,  the  last  time  we  conversed  alone,  yoa 
informed  me  I  was  sordid,  grasping,  avaricious ;  pos 
sessing  an  unholy  ambition  to  shine  in  circles  beyond 
me;  willing,  in  order  to  achieve  such  ambitions,  to 
seize  riches  which  did  not  belong  to  me;  that  I  was 
opposed  to  a  search  for  the  rightful  heir,  and  that  in 
your  high  devotion  to  duty  you  would  exert  all  in  your 
power  to  find  the  man,  so  as  to  save  me  from  myself." 

Dick  stared  at  her,  dumb  in  his  amazement.  He 
was  aghast  at  the  ingenuity  with  which  she  perverted 
the  words  used  in  that  heated  interview. 

"One  would  suppose,"  continued  Bessie,  "that  hav 
ing  so  low  an  estimate  of  a  woman,  any  words  of  ex 
planation  she  might  utter  would  have  no  weight  with 
you.  So  detestable  a  creature  as  I  must  appear  to 
you  should  be  without  sufficient  interest  to  induce 
you  to  desire  any  intercourse  with  her." 

"Interest?"  weakly  repeated  Dick,  as  if  he  was 
grasping  at  the  only  significant  word  she  had  uttered. 

"But,"  Bessie  went  on,  "whether  or  not  I  am  all 
you  suppose  me  to  be,  and  you  have  not  wasted  deli 
cacy  in  your  effort  to  leave  me  in  no  doubt  as  to  your 
opinion,  I  deny  your  authority  to  rebuke  or  to  criti 
cise  me." 

Dick  gathered  himself  together  with  an  effort.  Sev 
eral  moments  passed  before  he  spoke,  and  when  he  did 
it  was  in  gentle  tones  and  with  a  most  respectful  air. 

"I  must  have  another  existence  of  which  I  am  not 
now  conscious." 

She  turned  to  him  puzzled. 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  said. 

"Unlike  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde,  who  always  re 
tained  consciousness  of  the  other  existence,  I  do  not; 
for  I  have  no  recollection  of  the  other  Mason  who 
has  said  these  things." 


«8  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  did  not  say  them  to  me?" 

she  asked  indignantly. 

"By  no  means.  I  mean  to  say  that  I  am  not  now  con 
scious  of  the  existence  of  myself  when  I  did  say  them." 

"Which  is  only  your  polite  way  of  telling  me  that  I 
am  untruthful,"  she  broke  in  hotly. 

Yet,  when  Bessie  gave  utterance  to  these  words, 
which  she  knew  would  wound  him,  she  wounded 
herself,  for  she  saw  that  Dick  was  endeavoring  to 
evade  a  contest  with  her,  and  she  was  fully  aware  she 
had  put  a  perverse  construction  upon  their  former 
conversation  the  facts  did  not  warrant.  Moreover, 
they  were  just  what  she  did  not  want  to  utter.  But 
she  could  not  restrain  herself.  Oh!  If  he  would 
only  go  away,  so  that  she  could  have  a  good  cry,  and 
then  come  back  to  her,  how  easily  matters  could  be 
smoothed.  But  there  he  obstinately  remained,  seek 
ing  words  to  placate  her  and  make  her  listen  to  reason. 
She  knew  well  what  he  was  striving  to  do.  She  was 
angry  with  herself  that  she  could  not  abandon  her 
mood  and  give  him  that  assistance  she  dearly  desired 
to  give,  and  so  she  visited  her  anger  upon  him. 

All  this  time  he  was  leaning  against  the  rock,  his 
face  very  sober  and  very  anxious,  and  his  eyes  very 
troubled.  He  was  too  earnest  and  too  much  en 
grossed  to  think  of  his  attitude,  but  Bessie  did  not  fail 
to  recognize  its  unstudied  grace,  and  she  thought  she 
had  never  seen  him  looking  so  handsome.  She  pitied 
him  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart  for  the  trouble  he 
was  in — the  trouble  which  was  of  her  own  making. 
Then  she  knew  that  she  loved  him  deeply.  Why 
would  he  not  see  this?  Why  would  he  not  rise  up  in 
his  wrath  and  bid  her  to  silence?  Why  would  he  not 
take  that  mastership  over  her  which  was  his  to  take, 
and  to  which  she  would  yield,  only  too  willingly,  if  he 
would  but  exert  it?  She  had  no  patience  with  him. 
Why  had  he  not  the  address  to  see  that  she  wanted 
him  to  take  the  very  authority  she  denied  him? 


A  PERVERSE  MAIDEN.  HO 

"I  had  hoped,"  he  said  after  a  while,  deliberately 
and  sadly,  "that  when  the  opportunity  presented 
itself,  I  would  be  enabled  to  induce  you  to  tell  me 
wherein  I  had  given  you  offense.  I  am  unconscious 
of  having  done  so.  If  I  have,  it  was  unwittingly  done. 
If  any  words  I  may  have  said  to  you  can  be  construed 
into  the  meaning  you  have  placed  upon  them,  I  can 
only  say  such  meaning  was  far,  far  indeed  from  my 
intention.  I  do  not  think  these  things  of  you.  I  have 
never  thought  such  things,  and  there  can  never  be  a 
time  when,  clothed  in  my  right  mind,  I  could  think 
such  things  of  you.  I  can  make  no  apology,  for  I 
cannot  make  an  apology  for  something  I  never  did. 
I  can  only  regret  that  I  have  used  words  that  could  be 
construed  into  such  meaning.  Even  now  I  am  unable 
to  recall  them.  I  think,  however,  that  I  must  have 
given  you  offense  in  other  ways.  If  I  have,  I  would 
like  to  know  how,  that  I  may  either  explain,  defend 
myself,  or  apologize  if  I  am  in  the  wrong.  Could 
you  but  know  with  what  respect  and  esteem  I  regard 
you,  you  would  understand  how  impossible  it  is  for 
me  to  wittingly  offend  you.  Regard!  It  is  a  cold 
word,  which  does  not  reveal  my  sentiments.  If  you 
could  but  know — if  you  would  but  believe  in — the 
strong,  enduring,  unconquerable  love  I  bear  to  you 
and  have  always  borne  to  you,  you  would  know  that  I 
would  see  this  right  arm  wither  in  the  fire,  before  I 
would  utter  one  word,  or  do  a  single  act,  which  would 
give  you  a  moment's  distress." 

He  held  out  his  arm  straight  before  her,  looking  over 
it  earnestly  into  her  face.  While  she,  quivering  with 
joy  and  trembling  on  the  brink  of  tears,  turned  her 
face  away  to  conceal  her  emotions. 

He  thought  her  action  meant  obduracy,  and  so,  let 
ting  his  arm  fall  slowly  to  his  side,  he  went  on : 

"You  do  not  heed  me.  You  are  not  cold.  It  is  I 
who  am  unfortunate.  But  the  past  cannot  be  taken 
from  me.  The  dreams  of  the  days  when  hope  in- 


120  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

spired  me  to  efforts  to  make  myself  worthy  of  your 
love  are  burned  into  my  memory.  My  love,  unre 
ciprocated  as  it  may  be,  is  mine.  That  cannot  be 
taken  from  me.  And  I  can  still  indulge  the  hope  that 
you  will  see  that  justice  to  me,  who  have  been  guilty 
of  but  one  wrong,  and  that  of  daring  to  love  you,  de 
mands  that  I  be  given  the  opportunity  to  defend  my 
self  against  your  belief  in  my  offense." 

He  waited  for  her  to  speak,  but  she  could  not  trust 
herself.  She  sat  like  one  entranced,  her  whole  being 
flooded  with  light,  her  tongue  dumb. 

"I  will  wait  and  ask  again  for  justice,"  he  said. 
"And  I  think  I  know  you  too  well  to  believe  you  will 
deny  me  so  small  a  boon." 

She  heard  the  gravel  crushing  under  his  feet  and 
thought  he  was  coming  to  her.  But  he  did  not  come. 
She  slowly  turned.  He  was  gone.  She  sprang  up, 
with  a  wild  yearning  in  her  heart.  She  saw  him  slowly 
going  from  her  over  the  soft,  yielding  sod.  She 
stretched  out  her  arms  appealingly,  as  if  she  would 
call  him  bark,  and  then,  flinging  herself  against  the 
hard,  flinty  bosom  of  the  unsympathetic  rock,  she 
gave  her  heart  up  to  a  storm  of  sobs,  heard  only  by 
the  soft  winds  stopping  to  toy  with  her  golden  tresses 
shining  in  the  western  sun. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  RED  SHAWL. 

CRUSHED  and  hopeless,  Dick  went  his  way,  caring 
little  where  he  wandered.  Yet  he  had  won  his  love. 
He  had  achieved  his  heart's  dearest  desire,  and  was 
not  aware  of  it.  He  was  quite  certain  the  sun  was 
blotted  from  his  heaven,  that  all  purpose  was  gone 
from  his  life.  He  knew  now  what  influence  his  love 
for  Bessie  had  exerted  upon  his  life,  shaping  its  course 
and  giving  direction  and  energy  to  his  efforts.  And 
as  he  stalked  away  with  crushed  heart  and  lowered 
head,  fatuous  and  despairing,  he  left  behind  him,  con 
cealed  by  the  rocks,  a  maiden  weeping  bitterly  because 
the  conqueror  to  whom  she  had  surrendered  the  em 
pire  of  her  soul  had  failed  to  take  possession  of  it  by 
right  of  conquest. 

In  time  Dick  reached  the  Stanton  residence  and  sat 
himself  down  in  one  of  the  broad-armed  chairs  on  the 
veranda  and  gave  himself  up  unreservedly  to  gloom 
and  despair. 

From  his  reverie,  after  a  long  time,  he  was  aroused 
by  the  sound  of  steps  upon  the  gravel  walk.  Looking 
up  his  eyes  fell  upon  a  woman,  not  yet  of  middle  age, 
evidently  strange  to  her  surroundings,  making  her  way 
toward  the  entrance  at  which  he  was  sitting.  Al 
though  apparently  of  humble  life,  her  appearance  sug 
gested  thrift  and  prosperity,  and  her  face  was  attractive 
because  of  its  frankness  no  less  than  its  comeliness. 
Notwithstanding  his  gloomy  frame  of  mind,  it  was 
With  difficulty  that  Dick  repressed  a  broad  smile  when 


122  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

he  noticed  that  her  hair  was  blonde  and  her  shawl  a 
fiery  red. 

As  she  reached  the  foot  of  the  flight  of  steps  leading 
to  the  door  she  inquired  for  Mr.  Stanton. 

When  Dick  informed  her  that  he  was  not  at  home, 
an  expression  of  deep  disappointment  settled  upon  her 
honest  face. 

"I  have  come  all  the  way  from  New  York  to  see  Mr. 
Stanton,"  she  replied,  as  she  accepted  Dick's  invita 
tion  to  seat  herself.  "I  didn't  want  to  come,  but  they 
urged  so  hard  that  I  did.  And  they  told  me  I'd  be 
sure  to  find  Mr.  Stanton  at  home." 

Dick  was  on  the  point  of  inquiring  who  "they" 
were,  when  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  be  ob 
truding  himself  upon  private  affairs,  and  he  withheld 
his  questions.  But  the  woman  enlightened  him  with 
out  the  necessity  of  inquiries  from  him. 

"They  didn't  know  at  his  office  what  Mr.  Stanton 
wanted  to  see  me  about,  but  they  said  he  was  very 
anxious  to  see  me  about  something.  It  is  all  along  of 
an  advertisement  they  put  into  the  papers,  asking  any 
who  knew  James  Powers  to  communicate  with  them." 

Now  Dick  was  interested.  A  few  moments  before 
he  had  determined  to  withdraw  from  the  search,  but 
so  strong  is  the  fascination  of  the  chase,  that  upon  the 
first  scent  he  was  all  eagerness. 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  "you  are  alluding  to  Stanton, 
Boyd  &  Stevens,  and  you  are  the  daughter  of  James 
Powers." 

The  hazard  was  a  correct  one,  as  Dick  perceived 
by  the  astonished  expression  of  her  face. 

"It  is  all  right,"  continued  Dick.  "lam  the  one 
you  want  to  see.  Mr.  Stanton  inserted  that  advertise 
ment  for  me.  I  am  the  one  who  wanted  to  talk  with 
anyone  who  knew  James  Powers.  My  name  is 
Mason.  Are  you  the  married  daughter?" 

"Both  of  us  are  married  now,  sir.  I  am  the  oldest. 
My  name  is  Jenkins  now.  We  live  in  Philadelphia. 


THE  RED  SHAWL.  123 

After  we  saw  the  piece  in  the  papers,  my  husband  said 
I'd  best  go  on.  It  might  be  important." 

"It  is,"  replied  Dick.  "Most  important.  When 
you  were  four  or  five  years  old,  and  your  father  and 
mother  lived  in  MacDougall  Street,  they  had  a  lodger 
named  Dugdale,  who  died  there  and  left  a  child,  which 
your  mother  cared  for  until  it  was  adopted  by  some 
persons  unknown  to  me.  Do  you  recollect  anything 
of  this?" 

"I  recollect  hearing  my  mother  telling  the  story." 

"Is  your  mother  alive?" 

"No,  sir;  she's  been  dead  nine  years,  father  ten." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Dick,  beginning  to  have  more 
trust  ini  Ransom  by  reason  of  this  confirmation.  "Do 
you  recollect  the  name  of  the  person  who  adopted  the 
child?" 

"No,  sir;  I  do  not.  I  don't  know  that  I  ever 
heard  it." 

By  this  time  Dick  perceived  that  Mrs.  Jenkins  was 
greatly  disappointed  as  to  the  business  she  was  called 
on.  Rightly  judging  that  imagination  had  suggested 
to  these  good  people  the  possibilities  of  advantages  to 
themselves,  to  accrue  from  the  inquiry  which  had  been 
put  on  foot,  Dick  with  ready  tact  bent  himself  to  en 
list  her  interest. 

With  some  reservations,  dwelling  upon  the  high 
connections  of  her  mother's  lodger  and  the  immense 
fortune  awaiting  the  child  her  mother  had  cared  for, 
Dick  told  the  story,  winding  up  with  the  statement 
that  he  knew  she  had  been  put  to  trouble  and  ex 
penses,  for  which  she  would  be  amply  compensated. 
Having  overcome  her  disappointment,  he  plied  her 
with  many  questions.  But  nothing  he  did  not  already 
know  was  elicited.  Failing  on  this  tack,  he  tried  to 
learn  if  there  were  not  some  persons  still  alive  who 
might  have  knowledge  of  the  adoption. 

Mrs.  Jenkins  thought  possibly  an  aunt,  who  lived 
with  her  father  and  mother  about  that  time,  might  have 


124  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

known  about  it,  but  she  was  old  now  and  not  very 
clear  in  mind. 

Somewhat  discouraged,  Dick  rather  hopelessly 
asked  if  there  was  nothing  in  her  possession  which 
would  throw  light  upon  the  subject. 

Mrs.  Jenkins  thought  a  moment  and  then  replied: 

"There  is  a  tin  box  at  home  that  father  used  to 
keep  his  papers  in.  We've  got  it  yet.  I  haven't 
looked  into  it  in  many  a  day,  but  all  the  papers  are  in 
it  yet,  excepting  the  deed  for  the  Newark  house,  which 
was  taken  out  when  we  sold  the  house.  I  will  look 
when  I  go  home. ' ' 

Here  at  least  was  a  chance.  The  Powers  possibilities 
were  not  exhausted  yet.  So  he  earnestly  requested  her 
to  do  so,  and,  giving  her  his  address  in  writing,  asked 
her  to  inform  him  as  promptly  as  she  could  as  to  what 
came  of  her  search.  Then  taking  from  his  pocket  a 
roll  of  bills,  he  handed  her  a  sum  of  money  so  large  as 
to  make  her  eyes  glitter  with  delight. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  as  thoroughly  as  he  had 
questioned  her,  still,  had  Mr.  Stanton  been  present,  he 
might  have  been  more  successful,  so  he  proposed  that 
she  should  wait  for  Mr.  Stanton's  return. 

To  this  she  energetically  demurred,  saying  that  she 
must  return  by  the  six  o'clock  train,  since  her  hus 
band  would  be  awaiting  her  upon  its  arrival.  Con 
sulting  his  watch,  Dick  found  she  could  not  reach  the 
station  in  time  if  she  were  to  walk,  so  he  hastened  to 
the  stable  and  saw  that  a  carriage  was  prepared  to 
take  her  thither. 

As  he  helped  her  into  the  carriage,  he  saw  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Stanton  come  up  over  the  brow  of  the  hill  in  the 
distance,  but  as  time  pressed  he  could  not  wait  for 
them.  He  urged  the  driver  to  hasten  to  the  depot. 
As  the  carriage  rattled  off,  he  saw  Mrs.  Stanton  stop, 
as  if  her  attention  had  suddenly  been  arrested,  and 
then  run  forward  to  intercept  the  carriage  by  a  short 
cut.  He  realized  that  Mrs.  Stanton  had  at  last  found, 


THE  RED  SHAWL.  125 

in  the  flesh,  the  blonde  woman  with  the  red  shawl  of 
her  dreams,  and  he  laughed  aloud. 

By  the  time  Mr.  Stanton  reached  him,  perplexed 
and  puzzled  over  the  eccentric  desertion  of  his  wife, 
Mrs.  Stanton,  hot,  panting,  and  flurried,  was  returning 
over  the  lawn,  for  the  carriage  had  eluded  her  and 
passed  out  upon  the  highway  before  she  could  reach 
the  turn  where  she  had  hoped  to  intercept  it. 

"What  is  all  this?"  asked  the  wondering  lawyer. 

"I've  been  making  somewhat  free  with  your  be 
longings,"  answered  Dick,  smiling.  "That  was  the 
first  result  from  the  inquiry  after  James  Powers.  The 
woman  was  compelled  to  return  by  the  six  o'clock 
train,  and  there  was  no  way  of  getting  her  there  in 
time  but  by  sending  the  carriage." 

"Oh,  that  was  proper,"  said  Mr.  Stanton.  "But 
what  does  she  bring?" 

Before  Dick  could  reply  Mrs.  Stanton  came  up 
heated  and  indignant, 

"I  knew  it!  I  knew  it,"  she  cried.  "I  knew  if  I 
waited  she'd  appear.  I'm  the  most  miserable  of 
women!  It  is  shameful!  Right  here  in  my  own 
house,  too!  What  is  the  meaning  of  this?" 

"If  you  will  keep  quiet  long  enough  you'll  know," 
said  Mr.  Stanton,  much  annoyed.  "Mason  is  about 
to  tell." 

Dick  could  preserve  control  of  his  gravity  only  by 
great  effort  when  he  saw  Mrs.  Stanton's  expression,  in 
which  were  blended  indignation,  incredulity,  and  curi 
osity. 

Mastering  his  overpowering  desire  to  laugh,  he 
related  what  had  passed  between  Mrs.  Jenkins  and 
himself,  expressing  the  hope  that  an  examination  of 
the  box  would  reveal  what  they  so  earnestly  sought. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  fine  scorn  with  which 
Mrs.  Stanton  regarded  Dick  as  he  finished  the  tale. 

"And  you  expect  me  to  believe  that  foolish  story?" 
•ghe  exclaimed,  "I  am  foiled  again,  You  are  too 


126  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

sharp  for  me.  What  can  a  woman  do  against  two 
such  men?" 

"What  nonsense  is  this?"  sharply  asked  the  per 
plexed  husband. 

"It  is  no  nonsense!  That  was  the  heart  woman 
with  a  red  shawl.  I've  been  waiting  for  her  to  come 
that  I  might  get  at  the  bottom  of  all  this  talk  about  a 
baby  and  the  Barbers  and  the  Tomlinsons  and  the 
Powerses.  Oh,  yes!  You  may  think  you  can  fool  me, 
but  you  cannot.  I  know  what  is  under  it.  You  may 
deceive  Wallis,  but  you  cannot  deceive  me.  What  is 
her  name?" 

She  propelled  this  question  abruptly  at  Dick. 

Again  with  an  effort  Dick  controlled  himself. 

"Her  name  is  Jenkins,"  he  replied.  "She  is  the 
eldest  married  daughter  of  James  Powers." 

"Oh,  she  is,"  exclaimed  the  irate  lady.  "And  the 
baby,  where  is  that?" 

"I  am  not  aware  that  she  has  a  baby,"  replied 
Dick,  inwardly  convulsed. 

"Of  course  she  hasn't  one,  if  she  put  it  out  for 
adoption  to  someone  she  doesn't  know,  nor  Mr. 
Stanton  either.  You  wouldn't  be  turning  the  world 
upside  down  looking  for  it  if  it  was  with  her." 

"If  you  are  going  to  be  silly,  go  into  the  house," 
angrily  commanded  Mr.  Stanton. 

His  wife,  awed  by  his  manner  and  tone,  obeyed,  but 
she  walked  away  with  the  air  of  a  martyr,  leaving  Dick 
convulsed  with  suppressed  laughter. 

Mr.  Stanton,  leading  the  way  to  the  veranda,  ques 
tioned  Dick  particularly  as  to  his  talk  with  Mrs.  Jenkins. 

"I  wish  I  could  have  seen  her,"  he  said.  "Yet  it 
looks  as  if  you  had  elicited  all  she  had  to  tell.  I  am 
inclined  to  think  more  will  be  obtained  ^rom  the  aunt 
than  from  the  box." 

The  conversation  languished,  and  Dick  asked  for 
Wallis. 

"She  ran  over  to  see  Bessie  Hetlow  before  coming 


THE  RED  SHAWL.  127 

home.  Bessie  was  sick  with  a  headache  this  morning 
and  did  not  go  with  us." 

"Lord  Merrimount  is  still  at  the  Hetlows'?" 

"Yes.  He  was  with  us  to-day.  He  is  a  fine  fel 
low.  I  like  him.  I  don't  favor,  as  a  rule,  American 
girls  marrying  these  foreigners,  but  I  think  this  would 
be  a  good  thing  for  Bessie " 

He  stopped  short,  recollecting  Dick's  affection  for 
Bessie. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mason.  I'd  forgotten  your 
interest  in  this  matter. " 

"No  pardon  is  necessary,  sir,"  replied  Dick  sadly. 
"I  am  not  so  blind  as  not  to  see  that  Miss  Hetlow's 
friends  naturally  think  that  Lord  Merrimount,  son  of 
the  Duke  of  Mountchessington,  must  be  a  much  better 
alliance  for  her  than  would  Dick  Mason,  a  clerk  in 
her  father's  office,  with  his  way  yet  to  make  and  his 
fortune  yet  to  get.  Do  you  consider  the  matter 
determined?" 

"Why,  bless  me!"  cried  the  old  lawyer,  his  sym 
pathies  stirred  by  Dick's  tone.  "I  know  nothing 
about  it.  Hetlow  has  never  said  a  word  to  me  on  the 
subject.  I  have  fallen  into  the  belief,  if  belief  it  is, 
from  hearing  everybody  say  so — everybody,  that  is, 
except  Wallis.  She  insists  that  Bessie  won't  have 
him,  if  he  offers  himself.  In  fact  she  says  Bessie's  in 
love  with  you,"  bluntly  added  the  old  lawyer. 

"Wallis  is  mistaken,"  said  Dick  quietly. 

Mr.  Stanton  looked  at  him  a  moment  seriously,  but 
as  the  young  man  made  no  further  remark  took  a  cigar 
from  his  pocket,  lit  it,  and  smoked.  Dick,  in  whom 
this  conversation  had  revived  sad  thoughts,  got  up  and 
walked  the  length  of  the  veranda.  As  he  reached  the 
end,  from  which  a  view  of  the  Hetlow  mansion  could 
be  had,  he  observed  Wallis  turning  the  corner  of  the 
house.  She  saw  him  at  the  same  moment. 

"I  want  to  see  you.  Come  down,"  she  com 
manded. 


128  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

•   Dick  obeyed,  and  joined  her  on  the  lawn. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  to  Bessie?"  she  asked 
imperiously. 

"It  would  be  better  if  you  were  to  ask  what  Beseie 
has  done  to  me,"  he  replied. 

"Well,  what  has  she  done?" 

"She  has  rejected  me.  More  than  that,  she  has 
made  me  feel  the  sting  of  her  contempt.  She  has  shown 
me  how  wide  is  the  gulf  between  her  father's  clerk 
and  her  father's  daughter." 

"When?" 

"This  afternoon." 

"You  think  she  has  rejected  you?" 

"Think!"  There  was  a  world  of  sarcasm  in  his 
manner  of  repeating  the  word. 

"I  never  saw  such  idiotic  children,"  exclaimed 
Wallis,  with  a  gesture  of  impatience.  "I  am  thor 
oughly  disgusted." 

She  threw  off  her  hat,  and  sat  herself  down  on  the 
gnarled  root  of  an  old  tree  which  protruded  above  the 
turf,  and  clasping  her  hands  over  one  knee  rocked  her 
self  gently  to  and  fro,  her  brow  gathered  in  wrinkles. 

Dick,  standing  in  front  of  her,  thought  she  was  very 
pretty  as  she  sat  there  vexing  herself  with  his  troubles. 

"To  whom  are  you  alluding?"  he  asked  at  length. 

"To  you  and  Bessie,  of  course,"  she  answered  with 
much  asperity.  "I  never  saw  such  idiots.  You 
would  go  wrong,  both  of  you,  if  there  were  a  hundred 
ways  to  go  right,  and  only  one  to  go  wrong." 

Dick  was  silent,  wondering  what  she  meant,  a  slight 
hope  springing  up  within  him.  She  continued  rock 
ing  herself  to  and  fro. 

"I  don't  know  what  is  to  be  done,"  she  said  after  a 
while.  "If  it  were  anyone  else  in  the  world  I'd 
know  what  to  do.  But  both  of  you  are  so  stupid,  you 
rush  into  a  quarrel  as  soon  as  you're  let  loose.  Such 
geese !  Geese !  A  goose  is  a  miracle  of  wisdom  and 
penetration  compared  to  you." 


THE  RED   SHAWL.  1*9 

"I  am  surprised  so  astute  a  person  as  yourself 
should  waste  concern  upon  such  idiots,"  remarked 
Dick,  at  last  stung  into  a  retort  by  her  scorn. 

"Now  for  goodness'  sake!"  impatiently  cried  Wallis, 
"don't  add  sarcasm  to  your  other  absurdities,  when  I 
am  trying  to  see  a  way  out  of  this  miserable  business. 
Do  you  know  what  Bessie  is  doing  now?" 

"Felicitating  herself  upon  the  easy  manner  in  which 
she  has  rid  herself  of  me,  I  presume,"  replied  Dick, 
immediately  feeling  ashamed  of  his  reply. 

Wallis  stopped  rocking  and  looked  up  into  his  face 
most  contemptuously. 

"She  is  lying  on  her  face  sobbing  as  if  her  heart 
would  break,  because  you  had  not  the  sense  to  know 
that  she  loves  you  with  all  her  soul." 

"Did  she  tell  you  so?" 

"Did  she  tell  me  so!"  Thus  cried  Wallis  full  of 
scorn.  "No,  she  didn't  tell  me  so." 

"It  is  impossible  after  what  occurred  this  after 
noon." 

"Tell  me  it!     Tell  me  all!     I  want  to  judge." 

Thus  commanded,  Dick  did  without  reservation  of 
any  kind.  Wallis  listened  intently  with  the  air  of  sit 
ting  in  judgment,  frowning  at  times,  and  audibly  ex 
pressing  her  disgust  at  others. 

When  he  had  finished,  she  said: 

"And  you  didn't  go  to  her  after  that  and  demand 
an  answer,  but  stalked  away  in  magnificent  wrath!" 

"It  was  useless.  Her  manner  told  me  how  she 
received  my  declaration.  She  turned  her  face  from 
me." 

"What  did  you  want  her  to  do?  Fall  at  your  feet 
and  on  her  knees  thank  you  for  conferring  upon  her 
the  priceless  boon  of  your  love?  Whose  part  is  it  to 
woo?  A  pretty  lover  you  are!  Didn't  you  know  she 
waited  for  you  to  come?  Will  men  never  understand 
women!  You  didn't  know  then  that  you  had  won 
Bessie,  and  that  she  was  waiting  for  you  to  take  her?" 


I3<>  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"I  knew  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  Dick  firmly, 
satisfied  he  knew  and  Wallis  didn't. 

"Well,"  she  added,  rising  as  she  heard  the  dinner 
bell,  "we'll  go  to  dinner,  and  I'll  think  what  is  best 
to  be  done.  I  do  wish  the  good  Lord  had  given  you 
a  little  less  of  good  looks  and  a  little  more  of  brains. 
I  don't  believe  I'll  ever  get  this  straightened  out." 

Dick  followed  her  quietly  over  the  lawn,  making  no 
reply,  for  though  he  had  been  greatly  irritated  by 
Wallis' s  words,  and  especially  her  contempt,  yet  he 
knew  they  were  the  outcome  of  her  deep  interest  in 
himself  and  Bessie.  Notwithstanding  the  firmness  of 
his  belief  in  Bessie's  determined  rejection  of  himself, 
he  felt  lighter  and  more  hopeful. 

Mrs.  Stanton  had  not  recovered  from  her  indigna 
tion  over  the  appearance  of  the  heart  woman  in  a  red 
shawl,  but  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  in  stately  dis 
pleasure,  from  time  to  time  interjecting  remarks  quite 
puzzling  to  Wallis,  who  had  not  yet  been  made  aware 
of  the  afternoon's  events. 

During  the  dinner,  Dick  learned  that  a  coaching 
excursion  had  been  planned  for  the  following  day  by 
Mr.  Hetlow,  and  that  he  was  expected  to  be  of  the 
party.  He  shook  his  head  as  if  he  proposed  to  de 
cline.  Wallis  sharply  informed  him  he  was  to  go  and 
without  question,  and  that  he  must  behave  himself  like 
a  man,  if  that  were  possible — a  doubt  which  received 
instant  acquiescence  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Stanton,  if 
an  active  series  of  affirmative  nods  were  to  be  taken  as 
such  acquiescence. 

After  dinner,  Wallis  informed  him  that  he  must  get 
through  the  evening  without  her  as  best  he  could,  as 
she  had  a  duty  to  perform  in  going  to  Bessie,  who  was 
ill.  Before  she  left  she  whispered  to  him : 

"I  have  a  plan.  I  think  it  will  succeed.  Now 
don't  spoil  everything  by  refusing  to  go  to-morrow." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ORTON      PIERSON. 

WHEN  Dick  gave  his  promise  to  Wallis  that  he 
would  be  one  of  the  coaching  party  he  was  sincere. 
At  the  first  suggestion,  thoughts  of  the  embarrassment 
to  result  from  a  meeting  with  Bessie,  so  soon  after 
what  he  considered  to  be  his  rejection,  inclined  him 
to  a  refusal.  But  he  had  been  influenced  by  Wallis, 
despite  his  stubborn  adherence  to  his  own  belief. 
Hope  had  sprung  up  within  him,  notwithstanding  the 
surly  entertainment  he  offered  it.  And  in  the  end  he 
had  come  to  be  eager  for  another  meeting.  But 
events  conspired  to  alter  the  plans  made  for  him. 

When  he  came  to  the  breakfast  table  the  next  morn 
ing,  prepared  for  the  excursion,  he  found  his  mail 
beside  his  plate.  Wallis  was  at  the  table  alone,  and 
directing  his  attention  to  it,  said: 

"Your  mail  came  in  Mr.  Hetlow's  bag  from  the 
office,  and  was  sent  over  by  him.  While  you  read  it, 
I  will  send  for  your  coffee." 

Opening  the  first  letter  at  his  hand,  he  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  surprise  on  reading  it. 

Wallis  looked  at  him  with  curiosity,  but  did  not 
speak. 

"This  letter,"  he  said,  "has  an  important  bearing 
on  the  search." 

Briefly  relating  to  her  the  call  of  Ransom  upon  him 
self,  and  the  little  faith  he  had  in  anything  to  flow 
from  it,  he  read  the  letter  to  her. 

"Mr  Mason:  Dear  Sir,"  it  began.  "I  have  recol 
lected  the  name  of  the  man  you  want.  It  is  Orton 


I32  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

Pierson.  He  lives  somewhere  uptown,  in  Harlem  I 
am  told.  I  heard  also  that  his  adopted  son  lives  with 
him.  He  is  a  lawyer.  I  hope  this  is  satisfactory. 
Yours,  etc.,  Oliver  Ransom." 

"Oh,"  cried  Wullis  much  interested,  "will  the  prop 
erty  go  to  him,  right  away?" 

Now  that  the  result  which,  for  the  sake  of  Dick,  she 
had  hoped  would  be  reached  seemed  accomplished, 
she  began  to  have  a  great  pity  for  Bessie  and  Lord 
Merrimount. 

Before  Dick  could  answer,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stanton 
entered,  and  Dick  handed  the  letter  to  the  old  lawyer 
who  read  it  deliberately.  Laying  it  upon  the  table, 
he  said : 

"This  looks  like  the  beginning  of  the  end." 

"Yes,  and  it  means  I  must  go  to  New  York  at 
once." 

"I  suppose  you  should,"  said  Mr.  Stanton. 

"Oh,  I  hope  not!"  cried  Wallis.  "All  my  nicely 
laid  plans  will  be  destroyed  if  you  do." 

"It  will  not  do  to  delay,"  interposed  the  lawyer. 
"This  is  a  very  important  matter." 

He  took  up  the  letter  again  and  studied  it. 

"This  letter,"  he  said,  "impresses  me  more  favor 
ably  than  the  writer  did.  It  bears  no  evidence  of 
being  in  relation  with  the  Pierson  people.  He's  a 
lawyer,  eh?  Pierson!  Pierson!  The  name  is 
familiar.  ' 

"Which  is  the  lawyer?"  asked  Dick.  "The  old 
man  or  the  son?  The  letter  is  capable  of  both  con 
structions.' 

"So  it  is,"  replied  Mr.  Stanton  referring  to  the 
letter.  "Pierson!  There  was  a  lawyer  of  that  name 
some  years  ago — eight  or  ten — disbarred  for  wrong 
practice — I  don't  know  what.  However,  you  should 
go  at  once.  Your  inquiries  should  be  made  before 
they  get  wind  of  the  prize  to  be  gained.  You  ought 
to  know  all  about  Pierson  before  you  go  to  him.  I'll 


oAr  PIER  sow.  133 

give  you  a  letter  to  Boyd,  my  partner;  he  will  know 
how  to  put  you  in  information." 

"I'll  leave  you  to  explain  the  matter  to  Mr.  Het 
low,"  said  Dick.  "And  I  beg,  Wallis,  you  will 
express  my  regrets  to  Miss  Hetlow. " 

"It's  very  unfortunate,"  complained  Wallis. 
"Why  couldn't  they  have  kept  their  letter  until 
to-morrow ! " 

"One  of  the  perverse  peculiarities  of  duty  is  that  it 
always  interferes  with  pleasure,"  remarked  Dick. 

During  the  rest  of  the  meal-time,  Mr.  Stanton  dis 
coursed  upon  the  probabilities  and  possibilities  of  this 
information,  giving  Dick  many  suggestions  as  to  his 
methods  of  proceeding  in  the  matter  and  of  dealing 
with  Pierson.  The  meal  was  barely  dispatched  when 
a  messenger  from  Mr.  Hetlow  announced  that  the 
coach  would  be  ready  to  start  in  a  very  short  time. 

As  Wallis  rose  from  the  table  to  prepare  herself  she 
passed  Dick's  chair,  and  stopped  to  say: 

"I  actually  believe  you  are  glad  to  escape  going  on 
this  ride." 

"Believe  me,  you  are  mistaken,"  answered  Dick 
eagerly.  "At  first  I  was  disinclined,  for  reasons  you 
may  appreciate,  but  after  that  I  became  anxious  to  go, 
and  now  I  feel  a  deep  sense  of  disappointment.  You 
ought  to  see  that  while  I  can  excuse  my  absence  to 
Mr.  Hetlow,  I  could  not,  in  view  of  my  commission 
from  him,  excuse  my  presence." 

Wallis  made  no  further  protest,  but  expressed  the 
hope  that  he  would  return  as  soon  as  circumstances 
would  permit  him. 

In  an  hour  Dick  was  on  his  way  to  the  city.  He 
entered  the  first  drug  store  he  could  find,  after  leaving 
the  cars,  and  consulted  a  directory. 

A  Mr.  Orton  Pierson  resided  and  did  business  at 
No.  1 28th  Street — a  real  estate  brokerage  busi 
ness.  Having  determined  that  such  a  person  existed, 
Ihck  went  at  once  to  the  office  of  Stanton,  Boyd  & 


134  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Stevens,  and  presented  the  letter  written  by  Mr. 
Stanton  to  Mr.  Boyd. 

"Now  what  does  Stanton  want  with  that  scamp?" 
inquired  Mr.  Boyd,  after  he  had  read  the  letter. 
"Pierson  was  disbarred  twelve  years  ago.  I  know  all 
about  it.  I  was  on  the  committee  presenting  the 
charges.  Yes,  he's  in  the  real  estate  business,  and  I 
guess  has  done  pretty  well  at  it.  He's  a  slippery  old 
fellow,  shrewd  and  plausible.  If  you  are  about  to 
have  any  dealings  with  him,  be  on  your  guard.  His 
reputation  is  bad." 

Thus  forewarned,  Dick  went  up  to  12 8th  Street. 
He  found  that  Orton  Pierson  conducted  his  real  estate 
business  in  the  basement  of  his  dwelling.  In  this  real 
estate  office  Dick  found  an  elderly  person,  not  ungen- 
tlemanlike  in  appearance,  whose  hair  was  white  and 
long,  and  whose  face  was  covered  with  a  long  white 
beard  and  mustache,  who  rose  in  a  polite  manner  to 
greet  him. 

Having  learned  that  the  elderly  gentleman  was  the 
person  he  sought,  Dick  proceeded  to  his  business. 

"I  have  some  inquiries  to  make,  Mr.  Pierson,"  he 
began,  "which  at  the  outset  may  seem  to  be  an  imper 
tinent  interference  in  your  private  affairs." 

Could  Dick  have  observed  the  old  man's  eyes  as  he 
talked,  he  would  have  seen  them  suddenly  light  up 
with  an  alert  expression,  and  as  suddenly  sink  into 
dullness.  But  he  could  not,  for  their  relative  posi 
tions  were  such  that  a  strong  light  was  in  Dick's  face, 
while  that  of  Mr.  Pierson  was  in  the  shadow. 

"Take  a  seat,  sir,"  replied  Pierson  graciously. 
"You  do  not  look  like  a  man  who  would  make  imper 
tinent  inquiries,  without  good  reasons." 

Dick  sat  down,  endeavoring  to  place  his  chair  so 
that  the  light  would  not  be  so  full  upon  him.  But  the 
old  man,  without  seeming  to  do  so,  outmaneuvered 
him  and  their  positions  remained,  sitting,  as  they  had 
been  standing. 


OR  TON  PIER  SON.  135 

"I  desire  to  ask  first,"  Dick  continued,  "if  you 
have  a  son?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  old  man,  "I  have  a  son.  But 
if  there  is  purpose  in  your  question,  I  suppose  to 
answer  you  properly,  I  should  say  he  is  an  adopted 
son.  But  he  is  the  same  to  me  as  one,  for  he  was 
adopted  when  a  babe,  and  it  is  only  in  recent  years 
that  he  has  known  that  he  was  not  a  son  of  my  own 
blood." 

"So  much  confirmation,"  thought  Dick. 

Aloud  he  asked : 

"Did  you  obtain  the  child  from  an  institution? 
Pardon  me,  I  do  not  intend  to  be  offensive." 

"You  are  not,  sir,"  blandly  replied  the  old  man. 
"No,  the  child  did  not  come  from  an  asylum.  There 
is  quite  a  story  connected  with  our  obtaining  it.  Mrs. 
Pierson,  who  is  now  dead,  and  I  hope  in  Heaven  where 
so  good  a  woman  should  be,  was  strolling  one  day,  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago,  in  Union  Square,  and  had 
her  attention  attracted  to  a  pretty  babe  in  the  arms  of 
a  respectable  woman.  Mrs.  Pierson  had  never  been 
blessed  with  children  but  had  a  large  mother  heart. 
She  stopped  to  notice  it,  and,  chatting  with  the 
woman,  learned  that  the  babe  was  the  child  of  a  man, 
though  a  gentleman,  very  poor,  and  that  the  mother 
was  dead.  How  the  talk  of  adoption  came  up,  I 
don't  know,  yet  I  recollect  that  Mrs.  Pierson  talked 
to  me  of  adoption,  but  as  I  was  not  inclined,  the  mat 
ter  was  dropped  for  the  time.  The  next  summer, 
however,  Mrs.  Pierson  again  saw  the  woman  and  the 
babe,  and  learned  that  the  child's  father  was  dead  and 
the  babe  homeless.  Then  it  was  that  Mrs.  Pierson 
persuaded  me  to  go  with  her  the  next  day  to  see  it. 
Seeing  it,  I  fancied  it.  We  made  a  proposition  to  take 
the  child,  but  Mrs.  Tompkins — no,  that  wasn't  the 
name — not  Tompkins — Tomp — Tompkins — Tomlin- 
son — that's  it!  but  Mrs.  Tomlinson  said  she  could  not 
dispose  of  the  child  until  she  had  consulted  her  hus- 


I36  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

band,  so  we  went  away,  with  the  understanding  we  were 
to  hear  from  her  upon  the  subject  promptly.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  we  never  did  hear  from  her  again,  nor 
have  I  ever  heard  of  her  since.  But  after  a  few  days 
a  man  named  Powers  came  to  my  office,  telling  me  that 
Mrs.  Tomlinson,  compelled  to  leave  town  with  her 
husband  hastily,  had  turned  the  child  over  to  his  wife, 
with  my  address,  and  announced  his  readiness  to  make 
over  the  child  if  we  were  still  of  the  same  mind.  To 
cut  the  story  short  the  transfer  was  made  and  the  child 
reared  by  us." 

"How  old  is  he  now?"  asked  Dick,  already  con 
vinced  that  he  had  at  last  ended  his  search. 

"About  twenty-seven,  I  think." 

"What  name  does  he  bear?" 

"Mine — Harold  Pierson." 

"Is  he  a  young  man  of  good  habits?'* 

"As  good  as  the  average — perhaps  better.  He  left 
me  on  a  foolish  misunderstanding  shortly  after  Mrs. 
Pierson's  death,  six  years  ago,  but  returned  three 
years  ago.  I  do  not  see  that  his  knocking  about  the 
world  has  harmed  him.  Upon  the  contrary,  I  think  it 
has  strengthened  and  broadened  him.  He  was  abroad. 
He  is  now  assisting  me  in  this  business." 

"I  see,"  said  Dick,  glancing  about  and  taking  note 
of  an  empty  desk  which  did  not  seem  to  be  much  used. 

"Did  you  know  what  the  name  of  the  child's  father 
was?"  he  continued. 

"Yes.  It  was  Dugdale.  The  Powers  people  said 
that  the  child's  father  was  of  an  excellent  English 
family,  and  had  been  discarded  for  marrying  beneath 
him  and,  as  they  thought,  for  other  wrongs.  The 
name  is  an  old  English  name,  and,  besides,  there  were 
some  papers,  old  letters  and  such  things,  found  after 
the  death  of  the  father,  which  would  indicate  such  to 
be  the  case." 

"Have  you  those  papers?" 

''Well,  no.     Powers  was  rather  strange  about  them, 


OR  TON  PIER  SON.  137 

I  argued  that  they  were  the  property  of  the  child  and 
should  go  with  it,  but  Powers  seemed  to  think  he 
ought  to  keep  them,  and,  as  I  did  not  regard  it  as 
essential,  I  did  not  press  the  point.  A  few  scraps, 
memoranda,  a  partially  written  letter,  came  into  my 
hands,  and  an  old  seal-ring  much  worn  and  battered, 
which  had  upon  the  seal  a  device,  undecipherable 
however.  I  must  have  these  things  somewhere,  but  I 
would  have  to  hunt  for  them." 

Dick  was  silent.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  heir  to 
the  Dugdale  millions  was  found.  The  story  of  Pier- 
son  seemed  to  fit  in  perfectly  with  all  he  had  previously 
learned.  Moreover  it  was  straightforward  and  ap 
peared  to  be  truthful.  Dick  did  not  appreciate  that 
the  story  was  direct  and  conclusive  only  upon  points 
which  he  was  unable  to  confirm,  and  vague  in  all  else, 
except  where  the  facts  were  undisputed.  He  did  not 
even  see  that  the  only  new  point  was  that  he,  Pierson, 
had  adopted  the  child. 

He  asked  another  question  tending,  as  he  thought, 
toward  the  confirmation  of  Pierson's  story. 

"Do  you  know  where  Powers  is?" 

"He  is  dead.  So  is  his  wife.  They  moved  to 
Newark  after  the  adoption." 

"Did  you  ever  have  communication  with  them 
afterward?" 

"Yes,  from  time  to  time." 

Up  to  this  time  Pierson  had  manifested  no  curiosity 
ns  to  Dick's  identity,  nor  as  to  his  purpose  in  making 
his  inquiries.  Nor  did  this  occur  to  Dick  as  strange, 
if  indeed  he  appreciated  it. 

"Can  I  see  the  young  gentleman?"  asked  Dick. 

"Not  to-day,  for  he  has  gone  a  short  distance  out 
of  town,  but  you  can  to-morrow,  or  any  subsequent 
time  that  you  may  appoint." 

"I  do  not  know  that  it  is  essential,"  remarked 
Dick,  rising.  "I  presume,  Mr.  Pierson,  you  can  es« 
tablish  these  facts  as  vci:  have  stated  them  to  me?" 


13$  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"I  presume  as  a  matter  of  proof?  Well,  I  hardly 
know  how  to  answer  you.  My  own  statement  would 
be  proof.  Mrs.  Tomlinson,  if  found,  would  be  further 
proof.  There  may  be  other  proof  to  be  found  after 
thought,  but  I  can  think  of  none  just  now.  What  need 
is  there  of  proof?" 

Dick  hesitated  before  replying,  and  when  he  did,  it 
was  most  cautiously. 

"I  have  been  commissioned  by  certain  persons  to 
make  these  inquiries.  I  have  no  direct  interest  in 
them  for  I  am  merely  an  agent  in  the  matter.  If  it 
can  be  established  that  Harold  Pierson  is  Edmund 
Dugdale's  son,  I  imagine  he  will  inherit  some  prop 
erty." 

"I  presumed  it  was  something  of  the  kind,"  said 
Pierson  indifferently.  "Indeed  I  have  always  thought 
that  it  might  occur,  if  Powers'  story  of  the  father's 
high  connections  was  true.  Is  the  amount  consider 
able?" 

"Considerable  is  a  relative  term,"  said  Dick 
evasively,  smiling  to  think  that  an  annual  income  of 
a  million  dollars  from  invested  property,  apart  from  an 
enormous  business,  was  termed  considerable.  "What 
might  be  very  considerable  to  one  of  limited  means, 
might  be  regarded  as  very  little  by  others  having  much. 
However  I  could  not  state  the  exact  amount.  Do  you 
know  a  man  named  Ransom?"  he  asked  abruptly. 

"Ransom!  Ransom!  I  do  not  think  I  do,"  re 
plied  Pierson,  without  the  quiver  of  an  eyelash. 

"It  is  unimportant,"  said  Dick,  as  he  bade  the  old 
man  good-by  and  left  the  room. 

He  did  not  realize  that,  during  the  whole  conversa 
tion,  Pierson  had  not  asked  his  name,  nor  that  he  had 
not  volunteered  it,  indeed  that  his  own  name  or  those 
in  behalf  of  whom  he  had  been  acting  had  not  been 
mentioned.  Nor  did  he  realize  that  Pierson  permit 
ted  him  to  leave  without  assurances  that  anything  more 
would  be  heard  from  him  or  those  he  represented. 


OR  TON  PIERSON.  139 

As  he  left  the  room,  the  door  leading  into  the  rear 
of  the  basement  was  opened,  and  Ransom  and  Bob 
entered.  But  Pierson  motioned  to  them  most  ener 
getically  to  go  back,  for  Uick  had  stopped  upon  the 
pavement  in  front,  as  if  he  were  about  to  return.  But 
he  walked  off  in  the  direction  of  Third  Avenue. 

When  Pierson  was  assured  that  Dick  had  really  gone 
he  opened  the  door  and  called  the  two  men  in. 

To  Ransom,  Pierson  extended  his  hand,  grinning 
broadly.  Ransom  grasped  it,  a  treacherous,  trium 
phant  smile  overspreading  his  face.  In  his  dulcet 
tones,  he  exclaimed : 

"You  are  slick,  Pierson — a  very  slick  article! 
Nothing  could  have  been  better!" 

"He  swallowed  it  without  a  wry  face,"  said  Bob 
jubilantly. 

"Why  shouldn't  he?"  asked  Pierson.  "He  got  his 
information  without  pumping  for  it.  I  oozed  it  out, 
meandering  around  gently." 

"Now,"  asked  Bob,  seating  himself  astride  an  office 
chair,  "what  is  the  next  thing  to  be  done?" 

"Nothing,"  promptly  replied  Ransom.  "We  must 
wait  for  their  move  now.  It  will  come  quick 
enough." 

While  this  was  going  forward,  Dick  was  making  his 
way  downtown.  He  wondered  how  Bessie  would 
receive  the  news.  He  knew  how  Mr.  Hetlow  would 
take  it.  He  would  acquiesce  in  it,  and  as  disap 
pointed  as  he  might  be,  assist  the  young  man  to  the 
inheritance,  being  assured  the  right  man  had  been 
found,  bowing  to  the  inevitable  cheerfully,  although 
the  prospect  of  an  alliance  with  the  Mountchessington 
family  was  dissipated  thereby.  The  effect  of  his  news 
upon  Merrimount,  he  thought,  would  be  to  promptly 
send  that  young  nobleman  home  without  a  wife. 

The  large  question  was  how  would  Bessie  treat  him 
now,  the  bearer  of  the  news  that  she  was  not  the  Dug- 
dale  heiress.  Would  she  visit  him  with  her  displeas- 


14°  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

ure?  One  thing  he  would  do  and  that  was  that  he 
would  again  offer  himself,  and  if  it  had  no  other 
result,  it  would  show  her  that  she  was  as  dear  to  him 
when  she  was  not  a  great  heiress,  as  when  she 
prospectively  was. 

All  those  interested  in  his  day's  work  and  with 
whom  he  wanted  to  consult,  being  at  Dobbs  Ferry, 
he  determined  to  go  there  without  delay. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

CONFLICTING    INTERESTS. 

AMPLE  time  was  given  Dick  to  review  the  events  of 
the  day,  before  the  return  of  the  coaching  party. 
The  more  he  reflected  upon  his  talk  with  Orton  Pier- 
son,  the  more  convinced  he  was  that  young  Dugdale 
had  been  found.  Orton  Pierson  might  be  all  Mr. 
Boyd  insisted  he  was,  but  the  fact  remained  that  he 
had  told  all  he  could  tell  frankly  and  unreservedly. 
And  this,  too,  before  he  knew  Dick's  purpose  in  mak 
ing  the  inquiries.  He  might  be  a  schemer  and  a 
designing  man,  but  in  this  instance  he  had  shown  no 
disposition  to  conceal  anything,  nor  had  he  mani 
fested  curiosity  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  inquiries  until 
he  had  satisfied  Dick's  desire  for  knowledge.  Then 
too,  Mr.  Pierson's  statements  were  truthful,  when 
judged  by  all  Dick  had  previously  learned.  When 
anything  he  had  said  could  be  put  to  the  test  of  com 
parison  with  the  statements  of  other  people,  they 
comported  with  all  the  essentials. 

And  yet  Dick  was  not  satisfied.  There  was  a  sense 
of  disappointment  that  Dick  told  himself  was  un 
reasonable.  Upon  what  this  feeling  was  based,  or 
wherein  the  result  failed  of  expectation,  he  could  not 
tell.  Indeed  he  was  unable  to  tell  what  that  expecta 
tion  had  been.  But  whatever  it  had  been,  he  felt  that 
it  had  not  been  realized. 

The  only  weak  point,  he  said  to  himself,  was  the 
lack  of  documentary  evidence.  That  Harold  Pierson 
was  young  Dugdale  seemed  to  depend  entirely  upon 
Mr.  Pie.rson's  word,  True,  Mrs.  Tornlin§on  CQU.14 

14! 


142  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

prove  the  preliminary  talks  with  Mrs.  Pierson  and  the 
subsequent  call  of  Mrs.  Pierson  and  her  husband 
upon  Mrs.  Tomlinson  in  reference  to  the  adoption. 
The  fact  that  the  child  of  Dugdale  had  been  adopted 
by  someone  could  be  easily  established.  So  far  as  he 
could  see,  the  whole  matter  turned  upon  the  point  as 
to  whether  Pierson  could  establish  the  fact  that  the 
child  adopted  by  him  was  the  one  confided  by  Mrs. 
Tomlinson  to  the  care  of  Mrs.  Powers,  for  the  purpose 
of  being  adopted  by  someone  whose  name  Mrs. 
Tomlinson  had  forgotten. 

Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  box  Mrs.  Jenkins 
had  spoken  of  might  contain  the  very  proof  desired, 
and  as  well  the  papers  which  Pierson  said  Powers  had 
insisted  upon  retaining.  Following  up  this  thought, 
he  determined  to  write  to  Mrs.  Jenkins,  urging  her  to 
make  the  search  of  the  box  and  communicate  its  con 
tents  as  promptly  as  she  could.  He  went  into  the 
library  to  write  this  letter,  and  while  thus  engaged,  the 
coaching  party  returned. 

"  Dick  went  out  to  meet  Mr.  Stanton  at  once,  to  tell 
him  he  had  reached  important  results,  and  to  express 
the  opinion  that  the  facts  should  be  presented  to  Mr. 
Hetlow  without  delay.  As  a  consequence,  a  messen 
ger  was  at  once  dispatched  to  Mr.  Hetlow,  asking  if  it 
would  be  agreeable  to  receive  Dick  on  a  matter  of 
importance. 

While  waiting  for  the  return  of  the  messenger  Dick 
went  back  to  the  library  to  complete  his  letter  to  Mrs. 
Jenkins,  to  which  place  Mr.  Stanton  soon  followed. 

"I  hope  you  will  go  to  Mr.  Hetlow  with  me," 
remarked  Dick,  as  he  closed  and  directed  the  letter. 
"What  I  have  to  tell  Mr.  Hetlow  is  important  in  every 
aspect.  I  will  reserve  my  story  until  then,  and  I  should 
like  to  have  your  judgment  upon  it." 

Mr.   Stanton  consented.     In  the  meantime  Dick's 

§rave  and  preoccupied  manner  had  been  observed  by 
oth  Mrs.  Stanton  and  Wallis. 


CONFLICTING  INTERESTS.  143 

By  the  latter,  it  was  taken  to  mean  that  a  point  of 
more  than  usual  significance  had  been  reached  in  the 
search,  but  though  burning  with  curiosity  and  greatly 
desiring  to  ask  if  the  heir  had  been  found,  she  put  a 
curb  upon  herself  and  refrained  from  questioning. 

Mrs.  Stanton,  however,  took  an  entirely  different  vie w. 

"Something  extraordinary  has  happened,"  she  said, 
in  whispered  confidence  to  her  niece.  "Something 
dreadful.  It  must  be  very  bad  if  they  are  driven  to 
consult  Mr.  Hetlow.  I  have  felt  that  something  bad 
would  occur,  ever  since  I  saw  that  woman  here  yester 
day.  I  cut  the  cards  last  night,  and  the  heart  woman 
in  a  red  shawl  turned  up  every  time." 

"Nonsense,  auntie,"  replied  Wallis,  with  no  little 
vexation.  "I  do  not  doubt  but  that  Mr.  Mason  has 
found  young  Dugdale.  From  his  serious  manner,  I 
should  not  wonder  if  something  is  wrong  about  him, 
now  that  he  is  found." 

"Young  Dugdale!"  cried  Mrs.  Stanton,  in  supreme 
contempt,  too  indignant  to  say  more,  as  she  swept 
away,  leaving  Wallis  to  follow  at  her  leisure. 

The  messenger  returned,  asking  Dick  to  come  over 
immediately.  Mr.  Hetlow  awaited  his  visitors  in  the 
library,  and  as  they  entered,  he  exclaimed : 

"O  Mason!  I  see  by  your  face  you  have  made 
the  discovery." 

"It  would  appear  so,"  replied  Dick  gravely. 

The  three  men  gathered  about  the  library  table  and 
Dick  began  his  tale.  He  was  possessed  of  one  of 
those  rare  memories  which  carry  words  and  incidents 
with  vivid  photographic  accuracy.  He  related  his 
experiences  of  the  day  clearly  and  minutely,  omitting 
nothing,  however  trivial.  When  he  had  finished,  Mr. 
Hetlow  who,  by  the  expression  of  his  face,  rather  than 
by  any  comments  made,  had  shown  his  disappoint 
ment,  said: 

"You  express  no  opinion,  Mason.  What  do  you 
thids  of  it?" 


144  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"I  am  forced  to  the  conclusion,  sir,  that  young 
Dugdale  has  been  found,"  replied  Dick  firmly. 

"I  do  not  know  that  it  is  at  all  singular  that  a  child 
born  twenty-seven  years  ago  should  be  found  alive 
to-day,"  remarked  Mr.  Hetlow  thoughtfully,  as  if  in 
answer  to  a  question  he  had  asked  himself. 

"I  suppose,  from  the  manner  of  your  statement," 
said  Mr.  Stanton,  "you  have  attempted  to  give  us  a 
literal  description  of  your  interview  with  Pierson,  and 
in  the  same  order  as  it  took  place?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Dick,  "so  far  as  my  memory  has 
permitted  me,  I  have  given  you  an  exact  statement  of 
the  interview." 

"Then  it  would  appear,  before  you  had  declared  the 
purpose  of  your  question,  he  had  given  you  a  state 
ment  of  all  the  facts  of  which  he  was  possessed,  lead 
ing  to  the  conclusion  that  Harold  Pierson  was  young 
Dugdale?"  pursued  the  lawyer. 

"Yes." 

"It  appears  to  be  conclusive,"  returned  the  lawyer. 
"The  fact  I  note  would  seem  to  make  it  so.  Yet, 
does  it  not  seem  singular  to  you — this  readiness  of 
Pierson  to  yield  up  the  information  without  a  single 
question,  and  as  well,  his  remarkable  lack  of  curiosity 
as  to  your  motives  in  the  inquiry?" 

"Isn't  that  to  be  explained  by  his  remark  at  the 
close  of  the  interview,  that  he  had  always  expected 
that  something  in  the  way  of  a  legacy  would  turn  up 
some  time  for  the  child  he  had  adopted?" 

"Perhaps!"  answered  Mr.  Stanton  doubtfully. 
"Did  you  give  him  your  name?  I  don't  recollect 
that  you  did  in  your  statement?" 

Dick  turned  to  the  lawyer  in  a  start  of  surprise. 
The  fact  flashed  upon  him  that  he  had  given  Pierson 
neither  his  name  nor  that  of  the  person  whom  he 
represented.  He  told  Mr.  Stanton  so. 

"It  is  certainly  very  remarkable,"  continued  the 
lawyer.  "It  argues  marvelous  possession  of  self- 


CONFLICTING  INTERESTS,  14$ 

control,  or  extraordinary  indifference.  However,  that 
is  not  to  say  that  his  story  may  not  be  true." 

"I'll  confess  to  a  feeling  of  disappointment,  and  to 
&  wish  that  the  search  had  turned  out  differently," 
said  Mr.  Hetlow.  "However,  I  presume  we  have 
nothing  else  to  do  but  to  retire  and  let  him  take  the 
property." 

"When  he  has  proved  his  identity,  and  not  until 
then,"  interposed  Mr.  Stanton  energetically.  "A 
great  deal  must  be  done  before  he  can  become  pos 
sessed  of  the  property.  I  admit  that  at  present  every 
thing  indicates  that  the  young  man  has  been  found. 
But  it  all  wants  confirmation  and  corroboration." 

"Let  me  state  the  situation  as  it  seems  to  me,"  he 
continued,  hitching  his  chair  closer  to  the  table  and 
placing  his  elbow  upon  it.  "Samuel  Dugdale  dies 
intestate.  The  next  of  kin  is  a  son  of  Edmund  Dug- 
dale — a  grandson — of  whose  existence,  or,  if  alive,  of 
whose  whereabouts,  there  is  no  knowledge  sufficient 
to  form  a  belief.  Failing  his  appearance,  your  daugh 
ter  is  next  of  kin.  In  the  absence  of  any  knowledge 
whatever,  you  would  have  been  justified,  both  in 
law  and  morals,  in  preferring  the  claims  of  your 
daughter  and  in  seizing  the  property,  and  maintaining 
possession,  until  dispossessed  by  strong  proof,  were 
the  nearest  claimant  to  appear.  But  you  did  not  do 
so.  You  set  on  foot  an  energetic  effort  to  determine 
whether  the  next  of  kin  was  alive  or  dead,  and,  if 
alive,  to  inform  him  of  the  estate  awaiting  him.  In 
this  I  think  you  were  right,  both  from  a  high  moral 
ground  and  from  the  lower  one  of  expediency.  Now, 
as  a  result  of  that  effort,  you  have  found  one  who, 
upon  a  first  consideration  of  the  matter,  seems  to  be 
the  man.  You  have  done  your  whole  duty.  No  com 
pulsion  rested  upon  you  to  do  what  you  have  done. 
It  was  merely  an  obligation  of  honor.  You  have 
nothing  more  to  do  in  this  direction  than  to  tell  the 
young  man  that,  if  he  really  is  the  son  of  Edmund 


I4<5  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Dugdale  deceased,  and  the  grandson  of  Samuel  Dug- 
dale  deceased,  the  Dugdale  estate  becomes  his. 

"Now,  having  done  this,  your  attitude  toward  the 
young  man  should  change,"  continued  the  lawyer. 
"You  have  a  duty  to  perform  to  your  daughter.  You 
must  insist,  both  in  the  interest  of  your  daughter  and 
of  justice,  that  the  identity  of  the  young  man  should 
be  so  well  established,  and  the  proof  of  his  claim  to 
the  estate  made  so  strong,  that  it  is  beyond  question 
that  the  estate  is  really  going  into  the  hands  of  a 
grandson  of  Samuel  Dugdale.  You  must  demand 
proof.  And  it  is  no  part  of  your  duty  to  assist  him  to 
proof.  You  have  done  your  whole  duty,  when  you 
have  hunted  him  up  and  asked  him  for  proof." 

"It  seems  to  me,  sir,"  said  Dick  deferentially, 
"that  any  other  course  than  that  pointed  out  by  Mr. 
Stanton  would  be  unjust  to  Miss  Hetlow.  And  now, 
when  I  say  without  reservation  that  there  seems  to  be 
no  escape  from  the  conclusion  that  young  Dugdale  has 
been  found,  I  may  say  that  an  impression,  for  which 
strive  as  I  may  I  can  find  no  reason,  was  made  upon 
me  that  there  is — 1  cannot  say  wrong,  for  that  would 
be  too  strong — well,  that  all  was  not  satisfactory.  I 
think  there  should  be  a  rigid  investigation  before 
yielding  to  the  irrevocable  conclusion  that  Harold 
Pierson  is  young  Dugdale." 

"What  course  would  you  suggest?"  inquired  Mr. 
Hetlow  of  Mr.  Stanton. 

"The  first  thing  I  should  do  would  be  to  communi 
cate  the  facts  Mason  has  presented,  to  your  family 
solicitor  in  London,  with  the  request  that  he  should 
either  himself  come  to  this  country,  or  send  someone 
qualified  to  act,  in  protection  of  the  estate,  and  exam 
ine  the  proof  presented  in  behalf  of  Harold  Pierson, 
as  we  must  call  him  until  he  has  proved  himself  to  be 
Dugdale,"  said  Mr.  Stanton.  "I  should  think  it 
would  be  a  good  thing  for  you  to  ask  young  Pierson 


CONFLICTING  INTERESTS.  147 

to  come  here,  and  you  could  then  tell  him  what  is 
before  him.  Then  we  could  all  have  a  chance  to  see 
and  question  him." 

Mr.  Hetlow  was  thoughtful  for  some  time  over  this 
suggestion.  Finally  he  said  to  Dick: 

"I  presume  you  could  communicate  by  letter  with 
him,  Mason?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  Dick,  "or,  if  not  with  him,  with 
the  old  man  Pierson. " 

Mr.  Stanton,  who  had  misunderstod  the  drift  of  Mr. 
Hetlow's  question,  interposed: 

"The  more  I  think  upon  my  suggestion,  the  more  I 
am  convinced  that  it  would  be  the  better  plan.  I  am 
moved  to  this  also,  by  a  curious  feeling  that  it  would 
be  far  better  to  have  our  first  interview  with  the  young 
man  at  a  place  where  Orton  Pierson  could  not  be  pres 
ent.  This  arises,  of  course,  from  the  distrust  I  have 
of  that  man." 

"I  agree  with  you,"  acquiesced  Mr.  Hetlow,  reach 
ing  forward  and  touching  a  bell.  "So,  Mason,  write 
to  this  young  Pierson  and  ask  him  to  spend  Friday 
night  with  me." 

A  servant  entered  in  response  to  the  bell,  and  after 
Mr.  Hetlow  had  instructed  him  to  ask  Miss  Hetlow  to 
come  into  the  library,  he  continued: 

"Of  course,  Mason,  you  will  say  enough  to  him  in 
your  letter  to  indicate  why  he  is  wanted  here,  and  will 
also  let  him  know  what  relations  I  bear  to  the  Dugdale 
family." 

Dick  had  barely  time  to  reply  that  he  comprehended 
his  instructions,  when  Bessie  entered.  Dick  rose  has 
tily  and  offered  her  a  chair. 

"Bessie,  my  child,"  began  her  father,  somewhat 
impressively,  "I  fear  you  will  be  compelled  to  steel 
yourself  against  a  great  disappointment." 

"Oh,"  laughed  Bessie  lightly,  "the  Dugdale  is 
found!" 

J. 


148  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

As  she  said  this  she  turned  her  eyes  upon  Dick  and 
dropped  them  quickly,  a  slight  blush  mantling  her 
cheeks. 

"It  would  seem  from  all  we  have  heard  to-day  that 
he  has  been  found,"  returned  her  father. 

"I  thought  this  solemn  conclave  argued  as  much," 
returned  Bessie.  "I  wagered  a  pair  of  gloves  with 
Lord  Merrimount  this  morning  that  Mr.  Mason" — 
she  faltered  a  brief  instant  over  the  name — "would 
find  the  young  man.  I've  won.  Well,  it  is  proper. 
Alive,  the  estate  belonged  to  him.  And  for  myself, 
I  feel  a  great  relief  that  I  am  not  to  be  burdened  by 
so  much  gold.  Of  course  I  know  that  I  ought  to 
rave,  and  tear  my  hair,  and  gnash  my  teeth  in  rage 
and  disappointment  in  order  to  justify  the  belief  of 
some  people  that,  with  the  prospect  of  so  great  a  for 
tune,  of  necessity  I  must  have  become  sordid  and 
avaricious,  but  I  can't.  The  relief  is  too  great." 

She  could  not  deny  herself  this  little  feminine  stab 
at  Dick,  who  did  not  fail  to  appreciate  it,  though  her 
father  was  aghast  at  the  high  spirits  she  manifested 
over  the  loss  of  a  fortune,  and  the  sincerity,  clearly 
evident,  of  her  self-congratulation  over  the  escape 
from  it.  With  the  assumption  of  increased  dignity, 
he  replied: 

"You  go  very  fast,  my  daughter.  The  matter  is 
not  determined.  WThile  I  think  the  chances  are 
largely  that  young  Dugdale  has  been  discovered,  the 
fact  is  not  established."  Then  he  added  with  some 
sarcasm:  "You  may  yet  be  burdened  with  the  wealth. 
I  would  not  rejoice  too  soon.  I  felt  it  my  duty,  how 
ever,  to  inform  you  as  to  the  condition  of  affairs,  im 
mediately  that  I  was  made  aware  of  it." 

Feeling  that  she  was  rebuked,  Bessie  did  not  reply, 
and  Dick,  to  prevent  embarrassment,  made  a  move 
ment  toward  the  door,  saying  as  he  did  so  that  he 
would  go  to  write  the  letter  Mr.  Hetlow  desired  him  to 
send  to  young  Pierson. 


CONFLICTING  INTERESTS.  149 

Mr.  Stanton  rose  at  the  same  moment  and  the  two 
left  the  room,  returning  to  Spring  Hill. 

Mr.  Hetlow,  thus  left  with  his  daughter,  related  to 
her  at  length  and  in  detail  the  results  of  Dick's  visit 
to  New  York  during  the  day.  When  he  had  finished 
Bessie  replied: 

"I  don't  doubt  that  I  was  frivolous  in  my  reply  to 
you  when  you  told  me  first,  but  yet  my  words  repre 
sented  my  feelings.  I  do  not  regret  the  fact  that 
young  Dugdale  is  found.  To  have  come  into  posses 
sion  of  this  great  wealth  would  have  been  to  take  upon 
myself  a  life  and  a  career  for  which  I  am  fitted  neither 
by  training  nor  inclination.  This  may  seem  to  you 
like  the  confession  of  a  lack  of  proper  spirit  but  it  is 
the  way  I  feel.  I  am  content  as  things  are." 

"And  there  was  no  attraction  in  a  brilliant  social 
prospect?"  asked  her  father,  rather  proud  of  her  than 
otherwise. 

"None.  That  was  the  heaviest  burden,  it  seemed 
to  me." 

"Nor  in  the  possibility  of  high  rank  aad  a  distin 
guished  social  position,  by  means  of  a  marriage  which 
such  wealth  would  justify  you  in  expecting?" 

"Nor  that  either.  It  may  show  little  ambition, 
But  I  am,  you  know,  an  American  girl,  and  I  am 
patriotic  enough  to  be  satisfied  with  an  American 
husband — "  and  she  added  gently,  "of  my  own 
choosing." 

Her  father  smiled,  and  impressing  a  kiss  upon  her 
forehead,  led  her  toward  the  door.  , 

"After  all,"  he  said,  "I  am  better  pleased  to  have 
you  in  this  frame  of  mind  than  one  of  deep  disap 
pointment.  I  presume  the  person  who  will  be  the 
most  grieved  will  be  Lord  Merrimount." 

Bessie  bent  her  eyes  keenly  upon  her  father,  think 
ing  he  was  about  to  reveal  the  exact  nature  of  the  young 
noblemnn's  proposition,  and  she  determined  to  let  her 
father  know  then,  that  whatever  it  was,  touching  hs;'; 
—  ^-- 


15°  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

she  would  not  have  accepted  it.  But  he  said  no 
more. 

"I  presume  it  was  Mr.  Mason  who  made  this  dis 
covery,"  she  asked,  finding  her  father  did  not  speak. 

"Yes;  he  acted  with  great  skill  and  caution." 

"Is  he  convinced  that  the  young  man  is  the  one?" 

"Yes,  convinced,  but  not  satisfied.  It  seems  con 
tradictory  does  it  not  ?  But  he  explained  himself  fully. 
He  is,  however,  very  urgent  that  the  investigation 
should  be  of  the  most  rigid  character." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  door  leading  into 
the  corridor,  and  Mr.  Hetlow  added: 

"I  must  find  Merrimount.  He  should  know  of 
this." 

At  the  moment  Merrimount  turned  into  the  corri 
dor,  and  Bessie  slipped  away,  that  she  might  not  be 
present  when  her  father  told  the  young  nobleman. 

Mr.  Hetlow,  taking  Merrimount  into  the  library, 
closed  the  door,  saying  as  he  did  so: 

"I  am  afraid,  my  lord,  that  you  will  be  greatly  dis 
appointed  over  the  news  I  have  to  communicate." 

Merrimount  looked  up  at  him  quickly  and  said: 

"You  would  tell  me  that  young  Dugdale  has  been 
found?" 

"Yes." 

"I  was  prepared  for  it.  I  thought  so  when  I  heard 
that  Mason  had  returned  so  quickly.  Of  course  I 
regret  it.  I  suppose  the  discovery  turns  my  mission 
to  America  into  failure." 

"Not  necessarily,"  replied  Mr.  Hetlow.  "First 
let  me  say  that  as  yet  it  is  only  strongly  indicative. 
The  identity  of  the  young  man  must  first  be  proved. 
It  may  yet  turn  out  to  be  a  mistake.  But  even  if  it  is 
found  to  be  true,  I  do  not  see  that  thereby  your  mis 
sion  need  necessarily  be  a  failure.  It  may  be,  and 
quite  possibly  is,  that  the  young  man  will  be  as  willing 
to  entertain  the  proposition  as  I  would  have  been,  had 
the  reverse  been  the  case.  Indeed,  I  am  inclined  to 


CONFLICTING  INTERESTS.  151 

believe  that  he  will.  I  can  see  a  great  many  reasons 
why  he  should.  You  may  rest  assured  that  if  he  will 
accept  advice  from  me,  advice  will  be  given  him  to 
accept  your  proposition." 

"You  gratify  me  greatly,"  said  the  young  English 
man,  his  face  lighting  up.  "It  is  somewhat  selfish  in 
me,  to  be  so  well  pleased  at  a  time  when  you  must  be 
naturally  disappointed." 

"Oh,  not  at  all,"  interrupted  Mr.  Hetlow.  "I  will 
not  attempt  to  conceal  that  I  saw  many  advantages  to 
arise  from  this  inheritance  if  it  were  to  come  into  my 
family.  However,  pardon  the  boast,  poverty  does  not 
be  any  means  result  from  the  discovery  of  the  heir  in 
the  direct  line.  As  for  my  daughter,  she  is  decidedly 
pleased  with  the  result.  She  says  the  wealth  would 
have  given  her  a  life  for  which  she  was  not  trained." 

"Miss  Hetlow  will  grace  any  rank  of  life,"  said  the 
young  man  sincerely. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow  proudly.  "Miss 
Hetlow  is  modest  in  her  estimate  of  her  own  powers, 
but  it  is  not  a  modesty  which  arises  from  bashfulness. 
However,  what  I  want  to  suggest  is  that  you  still 
remain  a  guest  at  'The  Larches'  until  this  matter  is 
finally  determined,  and  I  think  I  can  pledge  the  assist 
ance  of  Mr.  Stan  ton  and  Mr.  Mason,  as  well  as  my 
self,  in  furthering  your  interests  in  any  negotiations 
you  may  have  with  the  heir  of  Samuel  Dugdale,  who 
ever  he  may  turn  out  to  be." 

"I  am  very  grateful.  I  have  been  on  the  point  sev 
eral  times  of  asking  permission  to  make  a  confidant  of 
Mr.  Mason  on  this  subject.  I  like  him  very  much  and 
have  come  to  have  great  faith  in  his  practical  know 
ledge  of  affairs." 

"He  deserves  your  faith  and  confidence,"  promptly 
replied  Mr.  Hetlow,  "but  I  would  prefer  that  this 
business  should  be  finished  before  you  make  your 
je^elation.  This  young  Pierson  is  to  visit  me  on  Fri 
day  and  stay  the  night." 


IS2  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"Of  course  it  shall  be  as  you  wish,"  said  Merrimount. 
"I  do  not  know  that  any  interest  will  be  served  by  my 
seeing  Pierson.  And  perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  that 
I  should  not  be  in  the  way  while  he  is  here.  So  I  will 
submit  what  I  have  been  proposing  some  days  to  do. 
I  do  not  want  to  return  to  England  until  I  have  vis 
ited  Niagara,  and  after  that  I'll  go  for  a  day  or  two  to 
Montreal  and  to  Ottawa,  where  there  is  a  fellow  sta 
tioned  who  was  in  the  Guards  with  me — a  great  chum. 
Then  I'll  return  here  with  your  leave." 

Thus  it  was  that  Merrimount  left  "The  Larches" 
the  next  day. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

DICK'S   PROGRESS. 

DINNER  and  Wallis  awaited  the  return  of  Mr. 
Stanton  and  Dick,  the  latter  with  impatience.  At 
the  table  Dick's  story  was  told  again,  and  Wallis' 
curiosity  was  satisfied.  Mrs.  Stanton  however  was 
not.  She  believed  that  the  story  of  finding  young 
Dugdale  was  only  a  part  of  the  scheme  to  shield  her 
husband  and  deceive  her.  Therefore,  she  broke  into 
the  conversation  with  irrelevant  remarks  indicative  of 
her  wonder  over  the  gullibility  of  people  who  could 
be  induced  to  accept  any  statement,  however  absurd, 
as  the  truth. 

It  was  Mr.  Stanton's  habit  to  be  patient  with  all  of 
Mrs.  Stanton's  peculiarities,  attributing  them  to  the 
general  irrelevancy  and  want  of  logic  of  the  feminine 
mind,  against  which  there  was  little  use  in  contending. 
But  on  this  occasion,  her  remarks  were  so  frequent, 
and  seemed  to  be  so  inspired  by  purpose,  that  be 
coming  irritated,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  What  are  you  driving  at  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  replied  Mrs.  Stanton,  with  a  pro 
voking  assumption  of  indifference.  "  Oh,  nothing  at 
all,  my  dear." 

"  Then  don't  interrupt  the  conversation  with  re 
marks  so  foreign  to  the  topics  we  are  discussing," 
sharply  commanded  hep  husband. 

"Oh,  no  doubt  you  would  like  to  shape  the  conver 
sation  so  as  to  avoid  certain  disagreeable  topics,"  was 
her  answer.  "You  may  delude  Wallis,  but  not  me." 

"  Now,  for  Heaven's  sake,"  cried  Mr.  Stanton,  put 
ting  aside  his  knife  and  fork  and  looking  steadily  at 

153 


154  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

his  wife,  "  please  tell  me  what  relevancy  that  has  to 
anything  said  here." 

"  Have  you  found  that  baby  you  and  Mr.  Mason 
were  planning  to  hunt  for,  on  the  veranda  a  few  days 
ago  ?  "  she  asked,  with  an  expression  of  blended  cun 
ning  and  triumph. 

The  old  lawyer  looked  with  helpless  wonder  from 
Wallis  to  Dick,  both  of  whom  were  striving  hard 
to  maintain  their  gravity. 

"  Mrs.  Stanton  is  alluding  to  our  conversation  of  a 
few  days  ago,  when  we  talked  of  the  best  means  to  be 
employed  in  the  search  for  the  Dugdale  child,"  inter 
posed  Dick,  when  he  could  control  his  voice  and  face. 

"Oh?"  ejaculated  the  lawyer,  resuming  his  meal, 
"  Yes,  that  baby  has  been  found,  I  imagine.  He  wil! 
be  at  Mr.  Hetlow's  house  next  Friday." 

It  was  now  Mrs.  Stanton's  turn  to  be  astonished. 

"  What !"  she  cried.  "Mr.  Hetlow  will  do  that! 
He  is  willing  to  receive  that  child  into  his  own  house, 
his  daughter  living  there  too  !  I  would  not  have  be 
lieved  it  of  him." 

"  What  are  you  talking  of  now  ? "  demanded  Mr. 
Stanton,  thoroughly  mystified. 

Wallis  and  Dick,  unable  to  control  themselves 
longer,  burst  into  loud  laughter. 

"  Oh,  it  is  very  amusing,  I  have  no  doubt,"  exclaimed 
the  indignant  lady  sarcastically.  "  Though  I  question 
the  wisdom  of  his. act,  I  cannot  but  admire  the  friend 
ship  Mr.  Hetlow  displays  toward  Mr.  Stanton.  It  is 
an  extraordinary  thing  to  do,  merely  to  shield  him." 

"Shield  whom  ?"  cried  Mr.  Stanton,  now  thoroughly 
exasperated.  "  What  nonsense  is  this  ?  Have  you 
taken  leave  of  your  senses  ?  I  have  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  It  is  his  own  act." 

"  Which  makes  it  all  the  more  generous,"  replied 
the  good  lady  complacently.  "  Who  is  to  bring  the 
baby  to  him  ? " 

"  Well,"  answered  the  old  lawyer,  with  a  grin.     "  I 


DICK'S  PROGRESS.  155 

take  it  that  a  baby,  twenty-six  or  seven  years  old,  is 
able  to  bring  himself." 

"Twenty-six  or  seven  years  old,"  repeated  Mrs. 
Stanton  in  deep  disgust.  "  At  least  you  might  do  me 
the  poor  justice  of  treating  me  as  a  rational  being. 
A  baby  twenty-six  or  seven  \cars  old  !  " 

"  However  rational  you  may  be,  you  are  certainly 
not  talking  rationally,"  retorted  Mr.  Stanton.  "What 
I  say  is  true.  On  Friday  night  Harold  Pierson,  who 
is  supposed  to  be  young  Dugdale,  the  heir  to  the 
Dugdale  estates,  and  who  was  found  by  Mason  this 
morning,  will  visit  Mr.  Hetlow,  to  learn  from  Mr. 
Hetlow's  lips  the  prospect  before  him." 

This  was  said  with  such  angry  emphasis  that  Mrs. 
Stanton  realized  she  had  gone  as  far  with  her  hus 
band  as  she  dared,  and  so  she  quietly  remarked  with 
an  air  of  resignation  : 

"  I  suppose  it  is  my  duty  as  a  wife  to  believe  this." 

The  explosion  of  laughter  from  Wall  is  and  Dick, 
following  this  wifely  submission,  ended  the  meal. 

Later  in  the  evening  Wallis  and  Dick  wandered 
over  to  "  The  Larches,"  and  found  the  family  on  the 
lawn  overlooking  the  river.  Mr.  Hetlow  welcomed 
them  warmly,  for  it  was  evident  he  wanted  to  talk  with 
Dick  upon  Harold  Pierson  and  his  surroundings. 

"  I  am  conscious  of  great  disappointment,"  said  Mr. 
Hetlow,  after  Dick  had  exhausted  his  stock  of  know 
ledge,  thought,  and  suggestion  upon  the  subject.  "I 
did  not  know,  until  after  your  discovery,  what  strong 
hopes  I  had  entertained  that  nothing  would  come 
of  the  search  I  myself  instituted.  I  suppose  there  is 
a  point  of  morals  in  this.  I  presume  it  was  wrong  of 
me  to  entertain  such  hopes,  and  wrong  of  me  to  feel 
disappointment.  I  must  have  hoped  for  two  things — 
one  that  young  Dugdale  was  dead,  or,  that,  if  alive, 
he  could  not  be  found.  It  really  amounts  to  covet 
ing  for  Bessie,  my  neighbor's  goods." 

44  Did  you  covet  the  estate  for  Miss  Hetlow,  before 


156  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

you  knew  she  would  be  the  heiress  if  young  Dugdale 
were  not  found  ?  "  asked  Merrimount. 

"  No  ;  I  never  thought  of  it,"  replied  Mr.  Hetlow. 
"  I  thought  Samuel  Dugdale  had  made  a  will." 

"  I  imagine  your  disappointment,"  continued  the 
young  nobleman,  "  is  due  more  to  defeated  anticipa 
tions,  than  to  a  defeated  desire  to  secure  the  property, 
especially  if  it  was  to  be  possessed  by  keeping  the  real 
heir  in  ignorance  of  his  rights.  I  have  not  expressed 
myself  well.  The  distinction  I  try  to  draw  is  subtle. 
I  appreciate  it,  without  being  able  to  formulate  it." 

"  The  disappointment  is  natural,"  put  in  Dick. 
"  Nor  is  it  to  be  condemned  upon  moral  grounds.  It  is 
not  because  the  property  is  lost  to  Miss  Hetlow  by  its 
going  into  rightful  hands,  but  that  the  conditions 
have  destroyed  an  anticipation.  This  brings  you 
back  to  the  conditions.  And  these  conditions  are 
that  the  natural  heir  is  alive  and  known,  instead  of 
being  dead  or  lost  to  view.  Your  anticipations  were 
born  at  a  time  when  there  was  every  possible  indica 
tion  that  that  heir  had  disappeared  either  by  death  or 
lost  identity.  You  were  not  responsible  for  that  con 
dition  by  any  act,  not  would  you  have  been,  had  the 
search  determined  such  to  be  the  facts.  You  are  re 
sponsible  for  the  present  conditions,  because  you  have 
brought  them  about  by  your  own  honorable  act.  You, 
yourself,  destroyed  your  anticipations.  To  feel  disap 
pointed  over  the  conditions  for  which  you  were  not  re 
sponsible,  but  which  were  apparently  true,  is  not  to 
have  hoped  from  the  beginning  that  they  were  true. 
I  rather  think  you  accepted  them  as  true,  and  took 
precautions  to  determine  they  were,  before  you  might 
do  possible  wrong. 

"  That  is  what  I  mean,"  replied  Merrimount,  "there 
is  a  nice  distinction  there.  Had  Mr.  Hetlow  seized 
the  property  for  Miss  Hetlow,  without  effort  to  dis 
cover  whether  or  not  she  was  the  rightful  heir,  but 
had,  upon  the  appearance  of  the  grandson,  made  an 


DICK'S  PROGRESS.  157 

effort  to  resist  his  claim  despite  the  proof,  he  might 
have  been  blamed.  But  to  feel  a  disappointment  over 
a  defeated  anticipation  and  charge  it  as  immoral,  or 
ignoble,  is  rather  finely  drawn.  1  don't  think  myself 
the  millennium  is  here." 

"  No,"  said  Dick  laughing,  "  and  so  long  as  it  isn't 
here,  the  proper  man  of  the  time  cries  out '  oh  hang  the 
luck,'  proceeds  to  no  wrong-doing,  but  submits  to  the 
inevitable." 

"  But  Mr.  Hetlow  has  been  more  than  passively 
right,"  urged  Merrimount.  "  He  has  put  forth  all 
power  to  find  the  young  man,  and  finding  him,  pro 
poses  to  call  him  up  and  say  "  There's  the  property, 
prove  your  claim." 

"  But,  Bessie,"  laughed  Mr.  Hetlow,  highly  pleased 
over  the  discussion  between  the  two  young  men, 
"  while  these  young  moral  philosophers  are  determi 
ning  exactly  my  moral  status,  you  are  dispossessed  of 
your  property  and  career." 

"  Dispossessed  of  something  she  had  never  had  or 
desired, "replied  Bessie,  soberly  lifting  her  shy  eyes  to 
Dick. 

"  Well,  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow,  rising  from  his 
seat,  "  if  Harold  Pierson  is  young  Dugdale,  he  is  my 
grand-nephew  and  your  second  cousin,  and  must  be 
received  accordingly.  In  the  meantime  I  submit  that 
it  is  not  conducive  to  health  to  sit  here  longer." 

"  Oh,  don't  let  us  be  shut  up  so  soon,"  cried  Wallis. 
"  Let  us  go  for  a  stroll,"  and  then,  with  that  audacity 
which  always  took  away  Mr.  Hetlow's  breath  and  af 
forded  Merrimount  much  quiet  amusement,  she  said  to 
the  young  nobleman, "  Rise  up,  Mr.  Lazybones,  and  give 
me  your  arm,  and  we'll  wander  off  under  the  moon, 
like  those  rustic  swains,  with  which  your  writing  peo 
ple  are  always  peopling  your  '  quiet  English  lanes.'  " 

The  young  Englishman  quickly  rose  and,  with  as 
courtly  a  bow  as  he  might  have  given  his  queen,  prof- 
iered  his  arm  and  said : 


I$8  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"  I  obey  your  commands,  Miss  Gladwin.  I  am  al 
ways  willing  to  be  your  swain,  but  for  how  long  shall 
it  be?" 

"  Poh  ! "  exclaimed  the  downright  Wallis.  "  Com 
pliments  !  They  are  always  insincere.  I  don't  want 
them.  But  I  do  want  answers  to  some  of  ray  questions. 
You  told  uncle  this  morning,  for  I  heard  you,  that  I 
was  an  amusing  baggage  ;  and  ever  since  I  have  been 
dying  to  know  whether  I  was  a  trunk  or  a  valise. 
Which  is  it  ?  " 

Bessie  and  Dick,  who  were  greatly  embarrassed 
when  they  realized  how  cleverly  Wallis  had  maneuv 
ered  to  throw  them  together,  were  relieved  by  their 
laughter  and  Merrimount's  astonishment  at  her  ques 
tion. 

"  A  trunk  or  a  valise  ? "  he  asked.  "  Upon  my  soul 
I  don't  know.  If  I  were  to  regard  you  as  a  trunk  it 
would  be  because  of  the  undiscovered  possibilities  that 
might  lurk  within  its  recesses  when  searched  ;  if  a 
valise,  because  it  usually  contains  so  many  things 
indispensable  to  the  comfort  of  the  wayfarer." 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  cried  Wallis.  "  Come  along,  Bessie 
and  Mr.  Mason.  I've  fished  for  and  obtained  a 
thoroughly  unique  compliment." 

"But,"  inquired  Merrimount  innocently,  "what has 
a  trunk  or  a  valise  to  do  with  my  calling  you  a  bag 
gage  ?  " 

"  Aren't  trunks  and  valises  baggage  ? " 

"  We  call  them  luggage  at  home." 

"  To  be  sure,"  laughed  Wallis.  "  So  I  threw  in  my 
hook  and  brought  up  a  compliment  rather  than  a  joke." 
She  hurried  Merrimount  away  so  that  Dick  and 
Bessie  could  follow  leisurely.  This  they  did,  not 
without  a  good  deal  of  constraint  and  awkwardness. 
They  walked  side  by  side  for  some  distance  in  silence. 
It  was  Dick  who  spoke  first. 

"  When  I  parted  from  you  the  last  time  we  talked 
together  alone,  I  said  I  would  ask  you  again  for  an 


DICK'S  PROGRESS.  1 59 

explanation  of  the  offense  I  had  given  you,  I  do 
now  ask  you." 

"  I  think  you  then  wanted  an  explanation  of  what 
you  were  pleased  to  term  my  singular  conduct,"  re 
turned  Bessie. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  !  "  exclaimed  Dick  earnestly, 
"  do  not  let  us  again  drift  into  misapprehension.  I 
have  given  you  offense  evidently.  I  am  not  conscious 
of  how  or  where.  I  ask  you  to  tell  wherein  my  of 
fense  lies  that  I  may  make  reparation." 

Bessie  did  not  reply.  Indeed  she  did  not  know 
what  reply  to  make.  The  situation  was  embarrassing. 
That  of  which  he  had  been  guilty  in  her  eyes  was  the 
undertaking  of  the  search  for  young  Dugdale.  And 
that  only  because  it  argued  an  indifference  to  her. 
If  she  were  to  give  this  as  the  offense,  it  would  be 
showing  him  that  the  sentiment  with  which  he  regarded 
her  was  of  great  moment  to  her,  and  she  was  not  yet 
ready  to  confess  that. 

Dick  waited  patiently  for  her  to  reply,  but  as  she 
did  not,  he  spoke  : 

"You  are  silent.  Am  I  to  understand  you  decline, 
and  I  must  remain  in  ignorance." 

Fairly  driven  by  desperation,  Bessie  harked  back  to 
the  old  cry. 

"  Did  you  not  say  I  was  sordid  and  avaricious  ?  Is 
that  not  enough  to  give  offense  ?  " 

"  No,  I  did  not,"  said  Dick  flatly.  "  That  was  a 
construction  I  never  intended,  but  put  upon  my  words 
by  you.  I  have  told  you  I  never  thought  so,  and  do 
not  now.  But  since  you  insist  upon  the  construction, 
I  here,  now,  make  the  most  humble  apology." 

"  I  do  not  want  you  to  apologize  for  what  you  think 
you  never  did,"  said  Bessie  softly. 

Dick  pressed  his  advantage. 

"  Then  you  accept  unreservedly  my  statement  that 
I  did  not  mean  such  things  ?" 

"  Yes, if  you  wish  it  ? " 


l6o  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"  But  it  is  not  to  be  as  I  wish  it.  It  must  be,  if  at 
all,  as  you  believe." 

"  I  do  so  believe  it." 

"  il  am  grateful,"  said  Dick,  so  simply  and  so 
sincerely  as  to  touch  a  responsive  chord  in  Bessie. 
"  But  since  you  had  apparently  taken  offense  before 
those  words  were  uttered,  I  am  justified  in  believing 
that  only  a  part  of  the  offense  was  then  given." 

He  was  torturing  her  with  his  persistency.  He  was 
so  determined  she  could  see  no  way  of  escape.  If  his 
attitude  was  persistent  and  determined,  he  was  yet  re 
spectful  and  tender.  He  compelled  her  admiration  by 
his  strong  self-control. 

"  Why  will  you  be  so  persistent  ?  "  she  cried  out. 
"  Why  will  you  not  see  that  I  don't  want  to  be  driven 
to  confess  my  own  weakness  and  silliness  ?  " 

"  Nothing  you  can  say  or  do  can  be  weak  or  silly  in 
my  eyes,"  he  urged. 

"  Well  then,  if  you  will,"  replied  Bessie,  abandoning 
further  struggle,  "  I  was  offended  because  you  were 
willing  to  undertake  that  search  for  young  Dugdale." 

"  But  you  did  not  want  the  property  ?  "  he  said.  "  I 
never  believed  you  wanted  it,  if  it  were  not  yours  to 
take.  You  have  shown  since  the  search  terminated 
that  you  were  glad  it  was  not  to  fall  to  you." 

"  Neither  did  I.  But — but  you  had — you  had  pre 
tended  to  be — friendly  to  me,  and  it  looked  as  if  you 
didn't  care  whether — good  or  ill  came  to  me." 

Wallis  was  right  after  all  !  Her  interpretation  was 
the  true  one.  Dick  trembled  with  joy.  In  these  few 
words  was  the  confession  he  so  much  wanted  to  hear. 

"  Whether  good  or  ill  came  to  you  ?"  he  repeated, 
his  voice  tremulous  with  suppressed  passion.  "  Oh  ! 
in  my  deep  love  for  you,  was  the  incentive  for  the  un 
dertaking.  I  will  confess  a  wrong.  Not  the  one  you 
thought.  I  feared  this  inheritance  would  carry  you 
beyond  my  reach,  and  I  did  not  want  it  to  fall  to  you. 
I  love  you  so  deeply  that  I  could  seek  to  prevent  those 


DICK'S  PROGRESS.  161 

riches  from  coming  to  you.  But  say  that  you  forgive 
me.  Say  it  now  when  you  know  that  it  was  not  because 
of  indifference  to  you." 

Merrimount  and  Wallis  were  some  distance  in  front 
of  them.  Their  outlines  could  be  faintly  seen  against 
the  shrubbery,  which  darkened  the  way  and  threw 
them  into  the  shadow.  Bessie  made  no  reply,  but  Dick 
thought,  from  the  tremulous  pressure  of  her  hand  upon 
his  arm,  that  she  was  not  displeased.  He  took  her 
hand  in  his  own.  She  did  not  repulse  him. 

At  this  moment  Wallis  uttered  a  shriek  of  alarm. 
Dick  saw  the  forms  of  two  men  struggling  in  the  dark. 
He  ran  forward,  Bessie  following  closely.  As  he  came 
up,  the  man  struggling  with  the  young  Englishman, 
fell  backward  a  step  or  two,  uttering  an  oath,  and 
dashed  into  the  shrubbery.  A  moment  later  the  form 
of  another  man  was  seen  issuing  from  the  shrubbery 
on  the  other  side.  He  cleared  the  open  space  at  a 
bound  and  followed  the  other. 

As  he  did  so  Merrimount  gave  expression  to  an  ex 
clamation  of  surprise. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Merrimount.  "  I  stum 
bled  over  a  fellow  lying  upon  the  ground,  and  he 
jumped  up  and  made  at  me.  But  the  other  one — if 
it  were  not  impossible,  I  could  have  sworn  he  was  a 
fellow  I  once  knew  intimately,  but  who  went  wrong." 

"  And  I  could  almost  swear  that  the  one  who  at 
tacked  you  was  the  one  who  put  me  on  the  track  of 
young  Dugdale,"  said  Dick. 

"  Well,"  said  Wallis,  "it  has  been  an  adventure,  but 
rather  an  alarming  one." 

"  Too  much  so,"  added  Bessie.     "  Let  us  go  back." 

They  returned  to  the  house.  The  reconciliation  be 
tween  Dick  and  Bessie  was  complete.  But  for  the  in 
terruption  it  would  have  gone  on  to  something  more. 
Perhaps  both  were  disappointed,  but  Dick  was  happy 
and  so  was  Bessie. 


162  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

Wallis  was  not  long  in  discovering  the  situation. 

She  whispered  to  Merrimount : 

"  I  am  a  great  diplomat." 

Merrimount  looked  down  upon  her  admiringly  and 
replied  : 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  are  everything  you  say  you 
are,  but  I  don't  understand." 

"  And  I  don't  mean  you  shall,"  saucily  said  Wallis. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  BOX  AND  ITS  CONTENTS. 

LORD  MERRIMOUNT  left  "  The  Larches"  the  fol 
lowing  morning  on  his  trip  to  Canada,  by  the  way  of 
Niagara.  He  had  vainly  endeavored  to  persuade 
Dick,  for  whom  it  was  quite  apparent  he  had  formed 
a  liking,  to  accompany  him.  But  Dick  had  repre 
sented  that  just  at  that  juncture  of  affairs  Mr.  Het- 
low  would  have  need  of  his  services,  and  so  the 
young  Englishman  went  away  alone. 

He  was  greatly  missed  from  the  Hetlow  household. 
Simple  in  his  manners,  unostentatious  in  his  bear 
ing,  presuming  not  at  all  upon  his  rank,  indeed  en 
deavoring  to  put  aside  his  title  as  much  as  possible, 
and  entering  with  spirit  into  the  life  about  him,  he 
had  made  himself  a  favorite  with  all.  It  was  not  un 
til  after  he  was  gone,  that  it  was  realized  how  easily 
he  had  slipped  into  their  home  life.  It  is  true  Bessie 
had  never  forgotten  that  there  existed  in  him  a  possi 
ble  suitor  for  her  hand.  In  any  event,  under  all  the 
circumstances,  she  would  have  maintained  a  some 
what  distant  relation  to  him,  for  she  had  firmly  re 
solved  that  if  he  should  ever  come  to  her  as  a  suitor, 
she  would  deny  him.  But  she  was  further  influenced 
by  what  she  considered  to  be  unpardonable  and  cold- 
hearted  calculation,  in  that  he  should  coolly  and  calmly 
wait  to  know  whether  or  not  she  was  the  Dugdale 
heiress  before  he  ventured  on  the  step.  She  had 
therefore  never  permitted  herself  to  drift  into  any 
thing  like  intimacy  with  the  young  nobleman,  but  had 
borne  herself  with  a  reserve  toward  him  not  natural 
to  her.  It  was  true  that  she  had  not  been  able  to 

163 


164  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

reconcile  this  cool  calculation  with  his  simple  manly 
nature,  nor  could  she  refrain  from  admitting  that,  in 
every  other  way,  he  was  admirable.  She  had  finally 
settled  it  by  attributing  his  theory  of  the  marital  re 
lation  as  one  simply  of  conve nance  to  the  training  of 
the  world  in  which  he  moved. 

Wallis,  however,  had  formally  accepted  him  as  a 
good  fellow  and  had  been  one  with  him.  She  had 
therefore  gotten  on  famously  with  him.  Her  utter 
want  of  deference  to  his  rank,  her  frankness,  startling 
Bessie  often,  and  her  audacity  of  address,  without 
more  respect  than  she  accorded  other  young  gentle 
men  of  her  acquaintance,  amused  and  interested  him, 
though  at  first,  having  been  accustomed  all  his  life  to 
the  greatest  consideration,  it  made  him  wonder. 

On  the  same  morning  Dick  had  accompanied  Mr. 
Hetlow  and  Mr.  Stanton  to  the  city,  so  the  girls  were 
left  alone  to  spend  the  day  together. 

They  had  gone  for  a  stroll  in  the  morning,  and  by 
easy  degrees  reached  that  nook  in  the  rocks  on  the 
river  shore  where  Dick  had  so  unexpectedly  declared 
to  Bessie  his  love  for  her. 

Bessie  was  in  gay  spirits — gayer  than  she  had  been 
for  many  days — lighter-hearted  and  more  prone  to 
laughter. 

As  they  were  sitting  together  watching  the  river 
with  its  ever  changing  face,  Wallis  abruptly  said  : 

"  Bessie,  you  are  happier  than  you  have  been  for 
many  days." 

The  other  looked  up  quickly,  her  face  beaming, 
laughing  to  conceal  her  emotions,  for  she  knew  only 
too  well  to  what  her  happiness  was  to  be  attributed. 

"I  presume,"  she  said,  "that  it  is  the  relief  I  feel 
from  the  weighty  burden  of  riches  and  the  awfully 
narrow  escape  I  have  had  from  becoming  Lady 
Merrimount." 

"  Oh,  that  isn't  it,"  said  Wallis,  rising  from  her  seat 
and  perching  herself  upon  a  large  rock,  from  which 


A   BOX  AND  ITS  CONTENTS.  165 

she  could  look  down  on  her  companion,  reclining  in 
an  angle  of  two  other  rocks.  "  No,  indeed.  I  know 
better  than  that." 

Bessie  blushed  and  laughed  again. 

"Perhaps  you  will  tell  me  what  it  is  then.  For  if 
it  is  not  that  I  don't  know." 

"  The  fib  is  not  becoming.  No,  no.  It's  Mr.  Mason 
—Dick." 

"Mr.  Mason  !  " 

Supreme  contempt  and  heightened  color  upon  the 
part  of  Bessie. 

"The  blushes  are  !  "  commented  the  tormentor  on 
the  rock.  "  Yes,  Mr  Mason.  The  quarrel,  in  which 
you  were  so  perverse  and  Dick  so  stupid,  has  been 
settled." 

"You  can  call  Mr.  Mason  anything  but  stupid," 
Bessie  replied,  very  quick  in  defense.  "  Father  says  he 
is  one  of  the  very  brightest  men  he  ever  knew." 

"  Oh  !  Does  the  father  also  say  that  he  would  like 
that  same 'one  of  the  brightest  men' for  a  son-in-law  ?" 

"  You  are  absurd." 

"Of  course  Mr.  Mason  desires  to  personate  that 
character  ?" 

"  How  should  I  know?  He  has  never  informed  me 
as  to  his  desires." 

"  Oh  !  You  do  have  a  perverse  streak,  Bessie.  Do 
you  mean  to  stand  there  and  deliberately  tell  me  that 
Mr.  Mason  has  not  told  you  what  all  the  rest  of  us 
know — that  he  loves  you  ?" 

"  Wallis,  I  am  not  standing,  so  I  could  not  deliber 
ately  tell  you  anything  that  way.  But  I  will  not  equivo 
cate.  Mr.  Mason  did  on  one  occasion  intimate  some 
thing  of  the  kind,  but — "  and  she  hesitated  long  enough 
to  recall,  with  a  happy  smile  playing  about  her  lips,  the 
picture  of  Dick  standing  in  that  very  place,  with 
earnest  face  and  in  tones  almost  fierce,  telling  her  of 
his  unconquerable  love  for  herself,  and  then  went  on— 
**  but  he  has  never  asked  me  to  be  his  wife." 


166  THE   DUGDALE   MILLIONS. 

"You're  trifling  with  me,"  said  Wallis  severely. 
"  Well,  I  know  Dick  Mason  has  told  you  that  he  loves 
you  deeply  and  desperately,  and  when  a  man  does  that 
the  other  follows  as  a  matter  of  course.  If  this 
Harold  Pierson  turns  out  to  be  young  Dugdale,  1  sup- 
pose  things  will  go  more  smoothly.  Your  father 
would  never  have  consented  if  all  that  money  had 
been  coming  to  you." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  he  would  have  had  higher  ambitions  for 
you." 

"  If  all  that  money  were  mine,  I  would  have  been 
in  a  position  to  have  chosen  my  own  husband  with 
out  anybody's  consent.  So  you  know  it  would  have 
been  better  the  other  way." 

Bessie  did  not  appreciate  that  in  this  remark  she 
had  in  fact  admitted  all  Wallis  had  been  endeavor 
ing  to  elicit. 

"  But  the  difficulty  would  have  been  that  Mr.  Mason 
would  not  have  been  a  suitor  then,"  argued  Wallis. 

"  Do  you  think  so?"  asked  Bessie,  much  troubled. 

"  He  would  have  thought  you  had  gone  beyond  his 
reach." 

"Well  then,  perhaps  it  is  better  as  it  is,"  said  Bessie 
softly.  The  two  were  silent  for  some  moments,  when 
Bessie  said  : 

"  Lord  Merrimount  will  not  be  away  long." 

"  I'm  glad.     He's  very  nice." 

"  That  is  what  he  says  of  you." 

"  Present  my  thanks  to  Lord  Merrimount  and  tell 
him  I  prefer  his  other  opinion  of  me — that  I  am  an 
amusing  baggage." 

"  Do  you  resent  that  ? " 

"  Not  at  all.  I  am  overpowered  with  the  knowledge 
that  so  high  and  mighty  a  personage  could  have  any 
opinion  at  all  of  me." 

"  Wallis,  everybody  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that 
Lord  Merrimount  wanted  to  marry  me." 


A   BOX  AND  ITS   CONTENTS.  l6? 

"  Yes  ;  if  you  were  the  Dugdale  heiress." 

"  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  Mr.  Mason  overheard  him  make  the  proposition 
for  your  hand  and  came  to  me  downright  sick  over  it." 

Blushes  were  on  Bessie's  cheeks  again. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  if  he  did,"  said  Bessie.  "  I've 
an  idea  of  my  own." 

"  Really  !     And  it  is  ?  " 

"  That  Lord  Merrimount  is  fond  of  you." 

Wallis  sat  upright  regarding  Bessie  with  severity. 

"Bessie  !" 

"I  do  indeed.  When  you  are  near,  he  rarely  has 
eyes  for  anyone  else.  And  I  have  noticed  that  when 
you  are  talking,  he  can't  hear  what  anyone  else  is 
saying.  I  am  quite  sure  that  before  long  I  shall  be 
addressing  you  as  my  Lady  Merrimount." 

"  That  will  b^  nice,"  replied  Wallis,  preparing  to 
climb  down  from  the  rock.  "  In  the  meantime,  as  the 
most  palpable  effect  of  the  reconciliation  between 
yourself  and  Dick  Mason  has  been  to  leave  you  bereft 
of  the  little  sense  you  once  had,  let  us  go  back  out  of 
the  sun.  I  think  your  head  is  slightly  affected." 

"  But  I  am  in  earnest,"  persisted  Bessie,  rising  and 
picking  up  her  s'un  umbrella. 

"So  am  I,"  acquiesced  Wallis.  "But  I  am  not 
prevented  from  seeing  that  you  have  taken  a  very 
ingenious  method  to  put  an  end  to  conversation 
about  Mr.  Mason." 

"But  wouldn't  it  be  jolly  if  you  were  to  marry 
Lord  Merrimount  and  I " 

"  Were  to  marry  Dick  Mason,"  said  Wallis,  com 
pleting  the  sentence  for  the  other.  "  Bah  !  He's 
poor." 

"  But  think  of  the  rank  he'd  give  you." 

"  Rank  !  Can  you  tell  me  of  anything  worse  than 
genteel  poverty  ?" 

"Yes — poverty  that  is  not  genteel." 

"  Nonsense.      You    can    marry    poverty,    because 


1 68  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

you're  rich.  I  must  marry  riches  because  I'm 
poor." 

"  You're  a  mercenary  little  wretch." 

They  walked  away  together.  Notwithstanding 
Wallis  had  successfully  shown  her  contempt  over 
Bessie's  proposition,  she  was  not  a  little  flurried  over 
the  suggestion. 

"  Pshaw !  "  she  said  aloud  to  herself,  after  she  had 
parted  with  her  friend,  where  their  paths  separated. 
"Pshaw!  why  couldn't  Bessie  keep  her  thoughts  to 
herself.  All  the  fun  will  be  over  with  Lord  Merri- 
mount  and,  in  spite  of  the  nonsense  of  the  idea,  I'll 
be  playing  Miss  Propriety  to  him,  when  he  comes  back." 

Dick  returned  in  the  evening  with  Mr.  Stanton, 
and  was  handed  a  letter  which  had  been  received 
during  his  absence,  and  bearing  the  Philadelphia 
postmark. 

It  was  from  Mrs.  Jenkins.  Evidently  correspond 
ence  was  not  one  of  her  accomplishments.  From  her 
eccentric  penmanship  and  obscure  sentences,  how 
ever,  he  extracted  the  fact  that  the  tin  box,  of  which 
she  had  spoken  when  he  had  seen  her,  had  been 
found.  Moreover,  when  examined,  it  had  yielded 
some  letters  and  papers  bearing  upon  the  adoption  of 
the  Dugdale  child.  Of  what  importance  these  letters 
and  papers  might  be,  however,  she  was  unable  to  tell. 
There  was  one  letter,  she  said,  which  her  husband 
thought  might  be  from  the  man  who  had  adopted  the 
child.  The  name  however  Dick  could  not  decipher, 
for  it  had  been  written  over  and  blurred,  so  as  to  be 
come  utterly  indistinguishable.  The  letter  closed 
with  the  statement  that  Mrs.  Jenkins  and  her  hus 
band  were  called  the  following  week  to  New  York, 
and  if  Mr.  Mason  thought  the  box  and  its  contents 
of  sufficient  importance,  they  would  bring  it  with 
them  and  deliver  it  to  him. 

Since  the  discovery  of  the  supposed  Dugdale  heir, 
and  Dick's  visit  to  Orton  Pierson,  interest  in  what 


A   BOX  AND  ITS  CONTENTS.  169 

Mrs.  Jenkins  might  discover  had  been  lessened. 
This  letter  to  some  extent  revived  the  interest,  but 
Dick  did  not  think  that  the  box  would  do  more  than  help 
to  confirm  Harold  Pierson's  claim  to  the  estate.  He 
remembered  that  when  he  talked  with  Orton  Pierson, 
the  old  man  had  said  that  there  were  some  papers 
found  among  the  effects  of  Edmund  Dugdale,  which 
James  Powers  had  insisted  upon  retaining,  although 
Orton  Pierson  had  argued  with  him  that  they  were 
the  property  of  the  child  and  should  go  with  it.  He 
now  thought  the  papers  spoken  of  by  Mrs.  Jenkins 
were  those  alluded  to  by  Orton  Pierson,  and  he  as 
sumed  that  the  letter  referred  to  was  one  possibly 
written  by  either  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Pierson. 

He  showed  the  letter  to  Mr.  Stanton,  who  did  not 
regard  it  so  indifferently  as  Dick  had  done. 

"  This  may  be  very  important,"  he  said;  "impor 
tant  in  more  ways  than  one,  even  if  it  does  what 
you  think  it  does — confirm  the  title  of  Harold  Pier- 
son  to  the  estate." 

"  We  might  assume  the  position,"  said  Dick  laugh 
ing,  "  that  the  burden  of  finding  proof  of  his  identity 
should  rest  upon  him  and  not  upon  us." 

"  Nevertheless,"  replied  Mr.  Stanton,  "  even  if 
neighbor  Hetlow  is  not  to  have  this  property,  there 
will  be  a  decided  satisfaction  in  being  assured  that 
it  has  gone  into  the  hands  of  the  proper  person — that 
the  proof  was  unmistakable.  You  will  do  well  to 
ask  her  to  deliver  the  box  to  you." 

Thereupon  Dick  sat  down  and  wrote  Mrs.  Jenkins, 
asking  that  she  bring  the  box  with  her  and  deliver  it 
to  him  in  person,  and  promising  to  reward  her  for  her 
trouble. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE    DUGDALE    HEIR. 

THE  intervening  days  were  not  marked  by  incidents 
of  moment.  Though  Dick  had  remained  at  Spring- 
hill,  no  opportunity  to  renew  his  conversation  with 
Bessie  had  presented  itself.  They  had  met  more 
than  once,  but  never  alone  or  under  such  circum 
stances  as  permitted  him  to  press  forward  to  the  end 
he  so  much  desired  to  reach.  The  relations  existing 
prior  to  the  rupture  had  been  resumed,  perhaps  with 
a  little  restraint  upon  Dick's  part  and  shyness  upon 
that  of  Bessie.  But  he  was  in  a  far  better  frame  of 
mind.  If  he  was  eager  for  a  definite  understanding, 
and  chafed  under  the  delay  and  suspense,  he  was  yet 
hopeful  as  to  a  result  which  would  be  all  that  he  could 
desire.  So  that  he  was  comparatively  happy. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  the  Springhill  people 
were  to  dine  with  Mr.  Hetlow  on  Friday,  when  Bob, 
or  Harold  Pierson,  as  he  must  be  known  when  at 
"The  Larches,"  would  be  present.  After  the  dinner 
it  was  proposed  that  Mr.  Hetlow,  in  the  presence  of 
Mr.  Stanton  and  Dick,  should  communicate  to  Harold 
Pierson  the  fact  that  he  was  supposed  to  be  the  Dug- 
dale  heir. 

Friday  afternoon  arrived  and  with  it  Harold  Pier- 
son.  His  arrival  at  "  The  Larches  "  was  soon  made 
known  at  Springhill,  and  Wallis  entertained  the 
Stanton  family  with  whimsical  speculations  as  to  what 
he  would  be  like. 

Mrs.  Stanton  had  steadfastly  believed  and  insisted 
that  the  story  of  the  discovery  of  the  heir,  and  of  his 
coming  to  visit  Mr.  Hetlow,  was  a  mere  device  to  mis- 


THE  DUGDALE  HEIR.  tjl 

lead  her  as  to  the  movements  of  the  three  gentlemen, 
engaged  in  an  intrigue  to  shield  her  husband.  When, 
however,  the  hour  drew  near  and  no  excuses  for  the 
non-appearance  of  Harold  Pierson  were  made,  but  on 
the  contrary  the  announcement  that  he  had  arrived, 
she  was  much  perplexed.  Finally,  she  found  a  way 
out  of  her  perplexity  by  the  ingenious  imagining  that 
a  young  man  had  been  employed  to  personate  the 
Dugdale  heir  for  the  time.  This  reasonable  conclu 
sion  she  communicated  to  Wallis,  who,  in  her  vex 
ation,  said  : 

"  If  you  are  driven  to  imagine  things,  auntie,  I 
should  think  it  would  be  far  more  reasonable  to  sup 
pose  that  Harold  Pierson  was  really  the  Dugdale  heir, 
but  in  consideration  of  the  great  benefit  Mr.  Hetlow 
is  about  to  confer  upon  him,  they  will  insist  that  he 
must  help  them  by  personating  the  baby  you  are  so 
much  troubled  about.  Such  theory,  at  all  events, 
would  have  the  advantage  of  plausability." 

"  That  is  the  most  sensible  thing  I  have  ever  known 
you  to  say,"  cried  the  delighted  lady.  "  Undoubtedly 
that  is  the  very  thing  they  have  done.  I  have  not 
given  you  credit  for  such  sense  and  shrewdness.  Yes, 
that  is  it.  I  am  really  obliged  to  you  for  thinking  of 
it." 

"  But  I  don't  think  it,"  protested  Wallis.  "  I  merely 
suggest  it  as  the  least  foolish  of  all  the  imaginings 
you  may  engage  upon." 

But  it  was  now  a  settled  conviction  with  the  good 
lady,  and  she  went  away  to  prepare  for  the  dinner 
quite  light-hearted  over  so  great  a  discovery,  as  she 
called  it. 

When  the  people  from  Springhill  were  ushered  into 
the  drawing-room,  the  young  man,  to  discover  whom 
Dick  had  spent  so  many  anxious  hours,  was  found 
seated  with  Mr.  Hetlow.  Bessie  had  not  yet  come 
from  her  room. 

The  young  man  was  presented  under  his  name  of 


I?2  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Harold  Pierson.  What  they  saw  was  a  young  man  of 
athletic  figure  and  strong  face,  which  might  have 
been  pronounced  handsome,  were  it  not  for  a  certain 
hardness  of  outline  which  suggested  faintly  a  latent 
spirit  of  cruelty.  He  was  unquestionably  easy  in 
his  surroundings,  well  mannered,  well  bred,  and  quite 
evidently  accustomed  to  the  forms  of  polite  society. 

As  Dick  was  presented  as  Mr.  Mason,  he  looked 
upon  him  with  polite  interest,  asking  : 

"  Am  I  mistaken  in  supposing  you  are  the  Mr.  Mason 
who  called  upon  my  father,  a  few  days  ago  ?  " 

Assured  that  he  was  not,  he  added  : 

"  Your  call  was  the  cause  of  much  speculation  upon 
the  part  of  Mr.  Pierson." 

Turning  easily  to  Mr.  Stanton  he  inquired  if  he 
was  one  of  the  favored  ones  permitted  to  reside  in  the 
locality,  the  beauty  of  which  had  been  revealed  to  him 
that  day  through  the  courtesy  of  Mr.  Hetlow. 

The  whole  manner  of  the  man  indicated  one  accus 
tomed  to  the  ways  of  the  refined  world.  This  sur 
prised  Dick,  for  he  could  not  reconcile  this  easy  and 
graceful  man  of  the  world  with  the  home  he  had  been 
reared  in.  Bessie  now  swept  into  the  room  and  the 
presentation  followed,  closely  watched  by  Dick,  who 
again  saw  the  man  of  the  world,  versed  in  its  phrases, 
showing  society's  deference  to  the  sex. 

Dinner  was  announced  and  an  incident  occurred, 
small  in  itself,  but  which  impressed  and  still  further 
perplexed  Dick.  As  Mr.  Hetlow  rose,  the  young 
guest,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  but  with  prompt 
recognition  of  his  own  standing  in  the  house,  offered  his 
arm  to  Bessie,  proceeding  with  her  to  the  dining-room. 

Dick  muttered  to  himself,  as  he  followed  into  the 
dining-room,  these  were  not  the  manners  of  i28th 
Street  or  of  Orton  Pierson's  home. 

If  the  young  guest  did  not  particularly  shine  in  the 
light  bright  talk  of  the  dinner  table,  he  certainly  bore 
himself  without  reproach.  And  here  Dick  had  full 


THE  DUGDALE   HEIR.  I7J 

opportunity  to  study  the  face  of  the  supposed  heir, 
He  was  not  favorably  impressed  with  the  man  when 
under  bright  lights.  Traces  of  dissipation  were  notice 
able,  but  what  affected  Dick  the  most  was  the  total 
absence  of  frankness  or  candor  of  look.  But  at  all 
times,  even  when  talking  directly  to  a  person,  young 
Pierson  evaded  an  open  and  direct  look  into  that 
person's  face.  When  anyone,  theretofore  silent, 
spoke,  he  turned  a  quick,  though  guarded  and  stealthy 
look  upon  him.  The  entrances  of  a  servant  al 
ways  caused  a  slight  start  of  surprise,  quickly  re 
pressed.  In  nothing  else,  after  the  closest  inspection, 
could  Dick  find  cause  for  criticism  at  the  elegant  table 
of  Mr.  Hetlow.  But  he  was  not  satisfied. 

When  dinner  was  over  and  the  ladies  had  left  the 
table,  and  a  few  glasses  of  wine  were  taken,  Mr.  Het 
low  rose,  saying  that  the  coffee  would  be  served  in  the 
library.  Thither  went  the  gentlemen. 

When  the  doors  were  closed,  Mr.  Hetlow  proceeded 
to  the  event  of  the  night. 

"  Mr.  Pierson,"  he  began,  "doubtless  you  were  not 
a  little  surprised  that  I  should  request  you,  with  whom 
I  had  no  acquaintance,  and  in  fact  no  knowledge  of 
until  a  day  or  two  ago,  to  visit  me." 

"  I  confess  to  some  surprise,"  said  his  guest  smil 
ing,  "yet  I  connected  it  with  the  call  of  Mr.  Mason 
upon  my  father,  that  is  to  say,  upon  Mr.  Pierson." 

"You  were  quite  right,"  continued  Mr.  Hetlow. 
"  The  request  was  a  consequence  of  Mr.  Mason's  call 
upon  Mr.  Pierson.  Under  the  supposition  you  were 
the  person  for  whom  I  have  been  searching  many  days, 
I  asked  you  to  come  to  us  that  I  might  make  a  com 
munication  to  you,  which,  if  you  are  in  fact  the  per 
son  and  can  establish  your  identity,  it  is  your  right 
to  receive." 

Mr.  Hetlow  paused  to  observe  the  effect  of  his  re 
marks  upon  his  guest  and  found  him  listening  with  in 
terest  and  respect.  Proceeding  with  the  story  of  the 


174  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

death  of  Samuel  Dugdale,  and  of  the  estate  seeking 
an  heir,  Mr.  Hetlow  told  of  the  search  set  on  foot  by 
himself  and  conducted  by  Dick. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  while  it  is  a  fact  that  this  search 
seems  to  have  resulted  in  an  end  which  I  am  free  to 
confess  I  did  not  anticipate,  still  the  indications  are, 
strongly,  that  you  are  the  missing  heir  to  the 
Dugdale  estate,  for  if  Mr.  Mason  correctly  understood 
Mr.  Orton  Pierson  he  received  you  in  adoption  from 
one  James  Powers,  who  declared  you  were  a  child  of 
Edmund  Dugdale  who  had  died  in  his  house." 

"  Heir  to  the  Dugdale  estate  !  "  repeated  the  young 
man,  with  an  excellent  assumption  of  bewilderment, 
and  turning  to  Dick,  said  : 

"  I  thought  father  said  you  told  him  a  legacy  only 
had  fallen  to  me  ?  " 

"  That  was  an  assumption  of  your  father,"  returned 
Dick  smiling.  "  At  that  time  I  did  not  think  it  my 
duty  to  undeceive  him." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow,  "  if  you  are  in  fact  the  son 
of  Edmund  Dugdale,  you  are  the  heir  to  all  of  Sam 
uel  Dugdale's  estate,  for  he  died  intestate." 

The  young  man  did  not  reply  for  some  time,  remain 
ing  silent,  as  if  he  was  too  much  astonished  and  be 
wildered  to  speak.  Dick,  watching  closely,  could  see 
no  elation  in  him  ;  indeed,  his  face  and  manner  had 
taken  on  a  very  sober  air.  Reaching  forward,  the 
young  man  took  a  cigar  from  the  table,  lit  it,  smoked 
it  for  a  moment  or  two,  as  if  unconscious  of  the  act. 
Then,  with  an  air  of  slight  embarrassment,  which  be 
came  him  well,  he  said  : 

"If  I  have  understood  you  aright,  the  discovery  of 
myself  and  the  establishment  of  my  identity  deprive 
Miss  Hetlow  of  this  fortune." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Hetlow  gravely  ;  "  if  it  can 
be  termed  depriving  her  of  that  which  was  never 
hers,  so  long  as  the  son  of  Edmund  Dugdale  ex 
isted." 


THE  DUGDALR  HEIR.  175 

"  Is  it  considerable  ? "  he  asked,  modestly  and  rather 
timidly. 

"It  is  vast,"  answered  Mr.  Hetlow  solemnly,  as  be 
fitted  so  important  a  statement.  "  One  of  the  great 
fortunes  of  the  world." 

The  young  man  seemed  overwhelmed  by  amazement. 
He  did  not  reply  but  smoked  for  some  moments,  puff 
ing  vigorously  as  if  it  were  an  escape  for  suppressed 
excitement.  Perhaps  there  was  real  excitement,  and 
not  all  of  it  acting. 

"  Surely,"  he  said  at  length,  "  you  will  pardon  me, 
if  I  seem  to  fail  in  a  proper  appreciation  of  your  ex 
traordinary  statement.  I  am  somewhat  bewildered 
and  do  not  seem  to  think  clearly." 

All  this  seemed  so  proper  to  Mr.  Hetlow  that 
he  was  strongly  impressed  in  favor  of  the  young 
man. 

"  To  be  thus  suddenly  raised  from  a  condition  of 
very  limited  means  to  the  contemplation  of  the  pros 
pect  of  such  wealth  is  confusing,"  he  said,  as  if  ia 
apology. 

Dick  thought  this  was  rather  glib  for  a  man  pro 
fessing  to  be  so  much  amazed. 

"  Well,"  he  went  on,  "  really  I  do  not  know  what  to 
say.  I  never  knew  until  some  six  years  ago  that  I 
was  the  adopted  son  of  Orton  Pierson.  At  the  time 
of  the  telling  of  it  to  me,  and  growing  out  of  it,  differ 
ences  arose  between  my  father  and  myself  which  sent 
me  abroad.  I  never  knew  until  after  Mr.  Mason's 
call  that  my  name  was  Dugdale.  And  at  this  moment 
I  know  very  little  more.  Mr.  Pierson  is  a  singular  man 
in  many  respects,  and  I  have  learned  more  of  my  an 
tecedents  from  you,  Mr.  Hetlow,  than  I  ever  knew 
before,  supposing  always  I  am  the  person  you  sup 
pose  me  to  be." 

This  was  so  modest  in  statement  that  all  his  witnesses 
were  impressed  by  it. 

"  I  am  bound  to  admit,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow, "  that  the 


176  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

indications   are   that   you  are  the  one  we  have  been 
seeking." 

"  But/'  broke  in  Mr.  Stanton  for  the  first  time, 
"  you  have  a  great  deal  to  do  before  you  can  take 
possession.  Upon  you  must  rest  the  burden  of  prov 
ing  your  identity.  ' 

"  I  was  coming  to  that,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow.  "  I  as 
sume  I  have  done  my  whole  duty  in  seeking  out  the 
son  of  Edmund  Dugdale.  And  while  I  shall  not  put  my 
self  in  an  antagonistic  attitude  to  you,  it  can  hardly  be 
expected  of  me  that  I  should  labor  to  the  establish 
ment  of  your  identity,  or  that  I  should  yield  up  my 
claim,  on  behalf  of  my  daughter,  before  your  right  is 
fully  and  legally  established.  Informing  you  of 
the  prospects  before  you,  my  duty  ends." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  said  the  supposed  Dugdale, 
so  hurriedly  and  absently  as  to  take  on  the  ap 
pearance  of  impatience.  "  I  agree  with  you.  You 
are  right — very  right. 

After  a  silence  of  a  moment  or  two,  he  spoke  again 
and  with  an  air  and  tone  almost  courtly  : 

"  My  astonishment  over  this  information  sir,  is  fully 
equaled  by  my  admiration  for  your  high-minded  con 
duct — for  your  keen  sense  of  honor.  If  I  fail  to  show 
you  my  gratitude  now,  it  is  because  I  am  hardly  capa 
ble  of  thinking  clearly  to-night,  but  I  am  quite  certain, 
whatever  may  be  the  final  result,  in  time  I  can  show  it 
and  show  it  to  be  sincere." 

This  speech  also  made  a  good  impression.  Bob 
was  doing  famously.  Ransom  would  not  have  known 
him  as  the  companion  in  his  crimes  and  dissipations. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  I  shall  go  about  the  obtaining 
of  this  proof,"  he  went  on,  after  a  little  while  ;  "  I 
must  talk  with  Mr.  Pierson.  I  don't  even  know  what 
he  knows  or  how  much  he  knows.  I  presume  the 
proper  course  would  be  to  retain  a  lawyer  and  be 
guided  by  him." 

"  That  certainly  would  be  your  wisest  course,"  in- 


THE  DUG  DALE  HEIR.  1 77 

terjected  Mr.  Stanton.  "Retain  a  lawyer — a  reputable 
lawyer." 

Bob  turned  a  brief,  darting,  suspicious  glance  on  Mr. 
Stanton — a  glance  caught  by  Dick — but  he  said  in  an 
innocent  air  : 

"  You  are  a  lawyer.  Perhaps  I  can  arrange  with 
you." 

"  I  am  retained  by  the  other  side,"  replied  the  old 
lawyer  curtly. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  there  is  anything  more  to  be 
said  upon  the  subject,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow.  "We  have 
communicated  the  information  to  the  family  solicitor 
in  London,  and  have  asked  him  to  come  here,  or  send 
someone  qualified  to  act,  to  conduct  the  investi 
gation  into  your  proof." 

"I  shall  act  upon  it  at  once,"  said  Bob.  "Father 
said  something  about  some  papers  and  articles  which 
would  tend  to  the  proof.  I  will  return  in  the  morn 
ing  and  secure  them.  And  with  your  permission  I 
will  submit  them  early  in  the  week." 

"  Do  so,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow.  "  Run  up  here  on 
Wednesday  for  the  night." 

When  the  Springhill  contingent  were  walking  back 
that  night,  Dick  said  to  the  lawyer  : 

"  This  young  man  perplexes  me.  He  seems  to 
have  mixed  much  with  refined  and  polite  society. 
He  is  well  acquainted  with  all  its  forms,  even  those 
minute  matters  which  argue  being  to  the  manner 
born.  Where  did  he  acquire  them  ?  Not  in  the 
Pierson  family,  that  I  am  willing  to  wager.  Yet,  not 
withstanding  his  grace  and  polish — and  he  seems  to 
carry  with  him  the  atmosphere  of  the  great  world 
quite  as  much  as  Merrimount  does — his  face  makes  me 
distrustful.  I  am  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  suspicion." 

"  Oh,  ho  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Stanton,  "you  noticed 
those  things,  did  you  ?  Well,  I  am  with  you  in  that. 
The  final  impression  upon  me  was  that  of  distrust 
and  suspicion.  Yet  he  bore  himself  well  in  the  li- 


*7  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

brary.  I  cannot  pick  a  flaw.  The  sensation  is  an 
elusive  one.  I  cannot  fix  it.  There  must  be  a  rigid 
examination." 

"  Yes ;  an  examination  which  leaves  no  stone  un 
turned,"  replied  Dick. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

REBELLIOUS  INDEPENDENCE. 

SHORTLY  after  Harold  Pierson  had  taken  his  de 
parture  from  "  The  Larches,"  on  the  morning  follow 
ing  the  revelation  to  him,  Mr.  Hetlow  and  Bessie 
went  over  to  Springhill. 

Wallis  and  Dick  were  languidly  playing  a  game  of 
tennis,  Mrs.  Stanton  watching  them  idly  from  the 
veranda  ;  Mr.  Stanton  had  gone  into  the  village. 

Mr.  Hetlow  quite  evidently  wanted  to  discuss  the 
claimant.  Hence  his  visit  so  early  in  the  morning. 
Wallis  and  Dick  came  from  the  tennis-court,  racket  in 
hand,  and  seated  themselves  upon  the  steps. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  young  Dugdale,  Mrs. 
Stanton  ? "  asked  Mr.  Hetlow,  opening  the  subject 
nearest  to  his  heart. 

"  Since  you  must  lose  the  fortune,  I  think  you  should 
be  satisfied  that  it  is  to  go  into  such  excellent  hands," 
replied  that  lady.  "I  like  him  very  much." 

"Is  that  your  opinion  too,  Wallis?"  asked  the  mer 
chant,  turning  to  the  young  girl. 

"  No,  it  is  not,"  decidedly  replied  that  person.  "  I 
am  not  able  to  express  my  opinion  in  words.  I  can 
not  say  just  what  I  feel.  I  distrust  him,  yet  cannot 
give  a  reason  why." 

"  Do  you  mean  you  do  not  believe  he  is  what  he 
represents  himself  to  be?"  anxiously  inquired  Mr. 
Hetlow. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  ! ' '  Wallis  hastened  to  exclaim.  "  I 
suppose  the  facts  are  too  strong  for  that.  But  it  is 
not  that.  Something  whispers  to  me,  when  I  think 
of  him,  '  Beware  !  Beware  ! ' ' 

179 


l8o  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

11  There,"  cried  Bessie.  "  That  just  expresses  my 
feeling.  He  is  polite,  well-bred  in  his  manners,  ap 
parently  modest,  but  something  whispers  to  me  too, 
'  Beware  ! ' ' 

"  And  you,  Mason  ?  " 

"  I  also  distrust  him,  and  also  without  good  reason. 
Indeed,  I  fear  my  reasons  would  be  regarded  as  fan 
ciful.  I  distrust  him,  because  he  appears  to  me  to 
distrust  himself  and  all  the  world  ;  because,  not  that 
he  is  polite,  courteous,  and  refined,  but  because  his 
manners  are  those  of  a  man  accustomed  to  the  most 
polite  and  ceremonious  world,  from  his  childhood  up 
ward — of  a  man  accustomed  to  no  other  world,  until 
his  manners  had  become  fixed.  Perhaps  I  do  not 
make  myself  clear.  I  am  trying  to  make  that  distinc 
tion  which  exists  in  the  manners  of  a  man  who  has 
formed  them  after  having  known  another  kind  of  life, 
and  a  man  who  knew  no  other  life,  until  his  manners 
had  become  fixed  into  a  habit.  It  is  more  easily 
appreciated  by  me  than  stated." 

"  I  understand  you,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow.  "The  dis 
tinction  is  somewhat  subtle,  but  it  does  exist." 

"  Well  then,  if  we  are  to  accept  his  statement  of  his 
upcoming,  how  are  we  to  account  for  his  minute  and 
spontaneous  familiarity  with  the  forms  obtaining  in 
the  ceremonious  world  ?  The  last  place  we  would 
expect  a  man  so  equipped  to  spring  from,  would  be 
the  humble  household  of  Mr.  Orton  Pierson." 

"  I  fear  your  point  would  not  be  accepted  by  the 
vast  majority  of  people,"  replied  Mr.  Hetlow,  with  a 
laugh. 

"  I  don't  expect  it  to  be  accepted,  sir,"  replied 
Dick  soberly.  "  I  do  not  think  I  should  attempt  to 
urge  it  in  another  place.  I  did  express  it  to  Mr. 
Stanton  last  evening,  however,  and  found  it  received 
by  him." 

"  Does  Mr.  Stanton  distrust  him  too  ? "  inquired 
Mr.  Hetlow. 


REBELLIOUS  INDEPENDENCE.  181 

"Yes.  He  says  that  on  his  part  it  is  instinct 
rather  than  reason.  I  watched  Pierson  closely  last 
night,  for  I  have  regarded  him  as  a  suspect  from  the 
beginning,  and  I  thought  I  discovered  in  him  the 
want  of  certain  moral  qualities,  without  which  he 
would  be  an  undesirable  friend." 

"  It  is  all  prejudice,"  sharply  interjected  Mrs. 
Stanton  ;  "prejudice  without  reason." 

"  That  is  what  I  fear,"  put  in  Dick  earnestly. 
"  Indeed  I  think  all  of  us  with  the  exception  of  Mrs. 
Stanton  are  inclined  to  regard  Pierson  as  an  inter 
loper,  forgetting  that  he  is  in  the  position  he  is, 
through  our  own  acts." 

"  Perhaps  !  "  remarked  Mr.  Hetlow,  relapsing  into 
thought. 

After  a  few  moments,  during  which  all  had  been 
busy  with  their  own  thoughts,  Dick  said  : 

"  You  have  not  given  us  your  opinion,  sir." 

"  It  is  difficult  for  me  to  do  so,"  rejoined  Mr.  Het 
low,  arousing  himself.  "  I  was  favorably  impressed 
with  him  last  evening — very  favorably  impressed.  I 
thought  he  received  the  information,  which  was  of  so 
much  moment,  most  excellently.  Yet  I  feel  the  same 
mistrust  you  all  say  you  feel.  In  trying  to  analyze 
my  sensations,  I  have  reached  the  conclusion,  however, 
that  it  is  distrust  of  the  man  himself,  and  not  of  the 
claimant.  I  wish  Stanton  were  here.  He  is  so  clear 
headed." 

The  conversation  dragged,  and  the  players  joined 
by  Bessie  went  back  to  their  tennis.  Mr.  Hetlow 
talked  in  a  desultory  way  with  Mrs.  Stanton.  Pres 
ently  the  old  merchant  said,  apropos  of  nothing  : 

"  Mason  is  a  fine  fellow." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Stanton  in  return, 
coldly. 

"  I  do  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Hetlow.  "  I  have 
watched  him  grow  up.  He  was  a  fine  lad  and  has 
fulfilled  the  promise  of  his  boyhood.  He  has  an  ex- 


1 82  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

cellent  future  before  him,  for  his  morals  are  good  and 
his  capacity  for  business  far  more  than  the  ordinary." 

Mrs.  Stanton  did  not  reply. 

"  He  seems  to  be  attentive  to  Wallis,"  continued 
the  merchant  after  a  pause.  "  He  would  make  her  a 
good  husband.  I  think,  were  they  to  marry,  it  would 
be  a  good  arrangement." 

Mrs.  Stanton  laid  her  work  down  and  looked  with 
open  astonishment  at  her  visitor. 

"  Has  it  never  occurred  to  you  ? "  asked  Mr.  Hetlow, 
smiling. 

"  Occurred  to  me  !  "  repeated  the  lady.  "  Why, 
bless  you,  he  does  not  care  for  Wallis.  Don't  you 
know  his  heart  has  long  been  lost  to  Bessie?" 

Mr.  Hetlow  was  so  startled  and  amazed  that  he 
turned  almost  fiercely  upon  Mrs.  Stanton. 

"  To  Bessie  !    He  !    He  !    His  heart  lostto  Bessie  !  " 

It  was  not  Mrs.  Stanton's  purpose  to  make  trouble, 
and  it  was  only  when  she  perceived  the  effect 
of  her  unguarded  remark,  that  she  recollected 
that  she  had  revealed  what  she  had  been  expressly 
cautioned  to  preserve  as  a  secret.  It  was  too  late, 
however,  to  recall  her  words. 

"  Is  this  matter  then  of  such  common  notoriety 
that  it  is  surprising  that  I  do  not  know  it,"  he  asked 
angrily.  "  Has  this  love-making  been  going  on  under 
my  eyes  and  I  not  aware  of  it  ? "  He  was  so  angry 
that  Mrs.  Stanton  was  frightened. 

"  I — I — I  did  not  say  there  had  been  love-making," 
she  stammered.  "  I  don't  understand  there  has  been 
any.  I  fear  I  have  done  wrong  in  saying  a  word." 

"  What  am  I  to  understand  then?"  demanded  Mr. 
Hetlow.  "  Does  Miss  Hetlow  reciprocrate  his  affec 
tion  ? " 

"  No,  no,"  cried  the  poor  lady,  much  confused. 
"  We've  only  noticed  it  here.  I  think  he  confessed  his 
affection  for  Bessie  to  Wallis.  I  am  quite  sure  he  has 


REBELLIO  US  INDEPENDENCE.  I  §3 

said  nothing  to  Bessie.  And  yes — Wallis  told  me,  he 
believed  that  Bessie  regarded  him  disdainfully. 

"  As  was  quite  proper,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow  loftily. 
"  There  is  a  great  difference  between  them — a  great 
social  difference.  It  is  very  presumptuous  of  him." 

The  poor  lady  in  her  fright  and  confusion  stumbled 
into  the  remark,  which  of  all  others  was  calculated  to 
allay  Mr.  Hetlow's  anger. 

"  You  shouldn't  feel  it  that  way,"  she  said.  "It  is 
only  presumptuous  of  him  to  ask  her  to  marry  him. 
Any  man  may  love.  It  is  when  he  tells  of  his  love 
that  he  is  to  be  blamed.  He  thinks  Bessie  regards 
him  only  as  her  father's  clerk.  You  cannot  blame 
him  for  loving  so  beautiful  a  girl  as  Bessie.  Were  he 
to  make  love  to  her  then  you  might  blame  him." 

Mr.  Hetlow  was  placated. 

"  Oh  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  understand  the  situa 
tion  to  be  then  that  he  nourishes  an  undeclared  pas 
sion  for  Miss  Hetlow.  I  have  always  believed  him 
to  be  a  man  of  high  honor.  It  seems  he  is  guided 
now  by  honorable  purposes." 

Mrs.  Stantou  heaved  a  hngh  sigh  of  relief  as  she 
caught  at  his  words  and  said  no  more,  leaving  him  to 
his  belief.  Mr.  Hetlow,  however,  was  greatly  dis 
turbed.  He  fidgeted  about  for  some  time,  and 
finally,  with  a  little  asperity  in  his  tones,  called  Bes 
sie  to  him  to  return  home. 

His  daughter  obediently  left  the  game  and  walked 
away  with  her  father.  She  noticed  that  something 
had  occurred  to  annoy  him  and  also  the  coolness  with 
which  he  treated  Dick  when  he  parted  from  him. 

As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  earshot  her  father  said 
abruptly: 

"  I  have  heard  an  astonishing  piece  of  news." 

Supposing  it  to  relate  to  the  all-engrossing  topic, 
she  asked  indifferently  : 

"  Something  about  Mr.  Pierson  ?  " 


184  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"No,  about  Mr.  Mason." 

"  Mr.  Mason  ?  "  she  repeated,  her  heart  beating  fast 
and  her  color  deepening. 

"  Yes,  I  learn  he  has  had  the  audacity  to  lift  his 
— eyes  to  you — to  permit  himself  the  presumption  of 
loving  you." 

For  a  moment  or  two  her  head  reeled,  and  she 
walked  on  in  great  agitation.  Her  face  was  pale,  and 
her  heart  seemed  to  be  in  her  mouth.  When  she 
could  control  herself  she  asked  : 

"  Where  did  you  learn  this  astounding  news  ?  " 

"  From  Mrs.  Stanton." 

Anger  came  to  her  aid  in  controlling  herself.  She 
said  sharply,  "  Mrs.  Stanton  is  meddling  in  affairs  of 
no  concern  to  her." 

"  They  are  of  concern  to  me,"  retorted  her  father. 
"Is  this  so?" 

"  What  ?  That  it  is  of  concern  to  you,  or  that  Mrs. 
Stanton  is  a  meddler  in  the  affairs  of  others." 

She  was  endeavoring  to  gain  time. 

"  Do  not  trifle  with  me,"  commanded  her  father. 
"  Do  you  say  that  Mr.  Mason  has  dared  to  offer  him 
self  to  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered,  now  in  possession  of  herself. 
"  Mr.  Mason  has  not  offered  himself." 

"  Yet  he  loves  you  ?  " 

"That  may  be." 

"  Answer  my  question.  Has  he  ever  asked  you  to 
be  his  wife  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied  firmly.  "  The  first  day  Mr. 
Mason  came  here  he  and  I  had  a  serious  difference, 
growing  out  of  a  misapprehension  of  mine.  I  thought 
then,  though  I  now  know  I  misunderstood  him,  that 
he  presumed  to  lecture  me.  Since  then,  and  indeed 
until  this  week,  our  relations  have  not  been  pleasant. 
So  much  is  true.  Until  then  I  thought  Mr.  Mason 
regarded  me  tenderly.  Then  \  believed  the  contrary 


REBELLIOUS  INDEPENDENCE,  185 

and  did  so  believe  until,  in  conversation  with  him,  I 
learned  the  mistake  I  had  made." 

Her  words  now  came  slowly,  but  only  because  she 
was  carefully  selecting  them. 

"  During  that  conversation  I  came  to  know,"  she 
went  on,  "  though  I  am  sure  Mr.  Mason  did  not  in 
tend  I  should,  that  he  loved  me  with  a  deep  and  en 
during  love.  He  was  respectful  and  self-restrained. 
He  did  not  offer  his  love,  did  not  ask  me  to  return  it, 
did  not  ask  me  to  be  his  wife." 

She  looked  into  her  father's  face  and  encountered 
his  eyes  bent  upon  her  earnestly.  Without  faltering  in 
her  gaze,  she  went  on  : 

"  I  do  not  know  that  he  ever  will.  He  believes  I  do 
not  reciprocate  his  passion.  I  think,  no,  I  am  sure, 
he  believes  his  love  to  be  hopeless." 

Her  father's  brow  cleared  as  he  listened  to  her,  but 
she  went  on  now  more  rapidly  and  with  greater  firm 
ness. 

"  But,  should  he  ever  pay  me  the  compliment — the 
highest  a  woman  can  receive — shall  tell  me  of  his 
love,  and  ask  me  to  be  wife  to  him,  I  shall  say  yes." 

She  bravely  encountered  the  anger  of  her  father. 
He  stopped  short  in  his  walk,  detaining  her  by  grasp 
ing  her  arm.  They  were  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  great  field  which  separated  Springhill  from 
"  The  Larches." 

"  You  dare  to  say  that  to  your  father  ?  "  he  gasped 
out,  almost  choking  with  rage. 

She  did  not  quail  an  instant  before  him  ;  but  said 
as  firmly  as  he  could  have  done  : 

"  Your  daughter  dares  to  say  that  she  claims  the 
right  to  choose  her  own  husband,  since  she  must  live 
with  him  all  her  life." 

"  And  your  father  dares  to  say  he  claims  the  right 
of  bestowing  his  fortune  where  he  chooses,  since  he 
has  made  it  himself,"  he  shouted. 


1 86  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"  Threats  are  unnecessary,"  she  replied  calmly. 
"  I  do  not  deny  your  right.  Since  I  was  a  very  little 
girl  I  have  loved  Mr.  Mason,  and  as  I  have  grown 
older,  and  have  been  able  to  better  appreciate  his 
sterling  qualities  of  heart  and  head,  that  love  has 
deepened  and  strengthened,  until  I  can  think  of  no 
other  man  as  my  husband.  Should  you  interpose 
your  parental  authority — well,  I  could  only  surfer.  I 
have  come  to  know  what  it  will  mean  to  me,  since  I 
have  been  forced  to  the  belief  that  Mr.  Mason  will 
never  declare  his  love  for  me." 

"  What  shield  is  there  in  that  ?  "  contemptuously 
asked  her  father.  "  Will  not  a  woman  find  a  way  to 
show  her  lover  his  love  is  not  hopeless  ?  " 

"  Do  not  forget  that,  though  confessing  my  love,  I 
am  yet  a  woman." 

The  calm  dignity  of  the  reply  confused  the  old  mer 
chant,  and  this  made  him  angry. 

"  And  you  would  make  this  clerk  your  husband  ?  " 

"  At  his  age  Howard  Hetlow  was  a  clerk,  yet  he 
presumed  to  love  and  marry  his  employer's  sister." 

"  The  case  is  not  analogous." 

"  I  cannot  see  why  it  is  not,"  replied  Bessie  decid 
edly.  "  Mr.  Mason  is  a  gentleman.  He  was  the 
nephew  and  adopted  son  of  your  warmest  friend.  He 
is  of  strict  honor,  excellent  morals,  and  of  more  than 
usual  ability,  as  I  have  heard  you  say  a  score  of  times. 
As  I  have  said,  regardless  of  all  consequences,  were  he 
to  ask  me  to  be  his  wife,  I  would  proudly  and  gladly 
say  yes." 

Angered  as  he  was  Mr.  Hetlow  could  not  but  admire 
his  daughter.  She  was  displaying  a  spirit  he  had  not 
dreamed  she  possessed.  In  an  instant,  before  his 
eyes,  she  had  been  transformed  from  a  weak,  cling 
ing,  obedient  girl  into  a  strong,  forceful,  and  charming 
woman.  He  almost  stood  in  awe  of  her,  and  wondered 
what  had  caused  the  great  and  sudden  change.  He 
did  not  know  the  test  through  which  Bessie  had  re- 


REBELLIOUS  INDEPENDENCE.  187 

cently  passed,  silently  working  a  revolution.  He  did 
not  understand  that  from  having  passed  from  a  con 
dition  of  doubt  and  uncertainty — almost,  if  not  wholly 
despair — into  an  assurance  of  Dick's  strong  love,  she 
was  now  rejoicing  in  the  knowledge  of  it.  He  knew 
neither  how  to  reply,  nor  what  to  say.  In  argument 
she  had  met  him,  and  his  covert  threat  of  disinheritance 
had  fallen  upon  indifferent  ears.  Her  allusion  to  his 
own  past  had  affected  him  more  than  he  was  willing 
to  admit.  She  had  presented  himself  to  himself,  as  a 
purseproud  man  who  wanted  to  forget  his  own  upris 
ing.  The  picture  of  his  own  youth  and  struggles  was 
vividly  before  him.  He  contrasted,  involuntarily,  the 
past  youth  of  Howard  Hetlow  with  the  present  youth 
of  Richard  Mason,  and  not  wholly  to  the  disadvantage 
of  Mason.  He  could  not  summon  a  single  essential 
fault  against  the  man  his  daughter  had  so  bravely  as 
serted  she  loved — only  one,  and  that,  that  at  the  age 
of  twenty-six  his  future  was  not  assured.  Yet  he, 
Hetlow,  was  two  years  older  before  his  feet  were 
firmly  placed  upon  the  lowest  round  of  that  ladder 
by  which  he  had  mounted  to  riches  and  power. 
Through  his  mind  flitted  the  vexing  idea  that  it  was 
within  his  power  to  place  the  feet  of  Mason  on  the 
same  ladder,  the  mounting  of  which,  he  could  not 
but  confess,  could  be  safely  left  to  this  able  and  ener 
getic  young  man. 

As  he  was  thus  thinking  they  had  reached  the  stile 
which  let  them  into  their  own  grounds. 

Suddenly  Bessie  spoke. 

"This  is  a  useless  discussion.  After  what  has 
passed  between  us,  Mr.  Mason  will  never  make  a 
tender  of  his  love  for  me.  But  I  shall  regret  very 
much,  and  it  will  add  to  the  sorrow  and  distress 
under  which  I  am  now,  if  you  permit  this  frankness 
of  mine  to  interfere  with  Mr.  Mason's  relations  to 
your  business." 

"  I   think    I   know   how   to   separate   my   business 


1 88  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

interests  from  my  domestic  affairs,  without  instruc 
tions  from  my  daughter,"  answered  Mr.  Hetlow 
grimly.  "  My  partners  would  not  accept,  as  a  suf 
ficient  justification  for  the  dismissal  of  a  valued 
assistant,  the  fact  that  he  aspired  to  the  hand  of  my 
daughter.  Over  my  house,  however,  I  am  absolute, 
and  Mr.  Mason  must  no  longer  be  received  here." 

Bessie  made  no  reply  and  they  walked  on  in  silence. 
At  the  door  of  the  library  they  parted  ;  Mr.  Hetlow 
entered  that  room  by  no  means  satisfied.  It  was  true 
he  had  asserted  his  authority  as  the  master  of  his 
home,  but  he  was  not  at  all  certain  that  he  had  asserted 
his  authority  as  a  parent  in  that  forceful  and  impres 
sive  manner  he  was  wont  to  employ.  He  had 
been  astonished  and  somewhat  confused  by  his 
daughter's  sudden  display  of  spirit  and  firmness. 
Her  attitude  did  not  seem  to  admit  of  argument,  and 
she  did  not  admit  his  right  to  interfere.  The  revel 
ation  of  this  new  phase  of  her  character  had  so 
amazed  him  that,  in  his  endeavor  to  comprehend  it, 
he  had  neglected  to  combat  it,  and  it  was  now  a  ques 
tion  whether  he  had  not  permitted  the  opportunity 
to  exert  his  authority  to  pass  from  him.  He  was  also 
influenced  by  another  consideration.  From  what 
Bessie  had  said,.  Mason  had  made  no  proffer  of  his 
love.  After  all  he  could  not  expect  to  control 
emotions,  for  men  could  not  control  them  themselves. 
So  long  as  Mason  refrained  from  tendering  his  love 
to  Bessie,  he  could  not  see  how  he  could  interfere. 
The  trouble  was  that  Bessie,  by  her  own  confession, 
was  ready  to  yield  when  asked.  Would  she  not  find 
a  way  to  elicit  that  tender  ?  True,  Bessie  had  rebuked 
him  for  suggesting  that  she  would.  The  more  he 
thought  of  it  all,  the  more  perplexed  he  grew.  He 
could  not  bring  himself  to  the  determination  to  warn 
or  threaten  Mason.  He  might  be  told  to  wait  until 
cause  for  admonition  presented  itself.  What  he 
could  do,  and  this  he  would,  would  be  to  put  an  end 


REBELLIOUS  INDEPENDENCE.  189 

to  Dick's  visits  to  "  The  Larches."     As  for  the  rest 
he  would  await  developments. 

Having  made  her  brave  declaration  and  defiance, 
Bessie's  courage  failed  her.  Once  safe  in  her  room, 
she  began  to  torture  herself  with  the  fear  that  she  had 
by  her  boldness  involved  Dick  in  trouble.  But  above 
all  she  feared  that  in  his  present  vexed  temper,  her 
father  would  put  some  indignity  upon  Dick,  should 
he  appear  at  "The  Larches";  so,  acting  upon  im 
pulse,  she  indited  this  note  to  Dick : 

"  Please  do  not  come  to  '  The  Larches'  until  I  can 
see  you.  This  is  not  an  idle  request.  I  wish  to  save 
you  from  embarrassment.  I  will  soon  seek  a  meeting 
with  you." 

She  hastily  dispatched  it,  failing  to  appreciate  the 
construction  that  might  be  placed  upon  it  until  it 
had  passed  beyond  her  power  to  recall  it.  Then 
only  she  realized  the  position  she  had  placed  herself 
in. 

Vexed  with  herself,  she  could  think  of  no  other 
course  than  to  fling  herself  on  her  lounge  and  have 
a  good  cry. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

DICK'S   DISCOVERY. 

DICK  remained  at  Springhill  until  Monday.  He 
had  hoped  to  have  an  interview  with  Bessie  and  an 
explanation  of  her  mysterious  note.  But  he  was  com 
pelled  to  depart  without  a  word  from  her.  Wallis 
had  gone  to  "  The  Larches,"  on  Sunday  morning, 
promising  to  bring  him  information,  but  upon  her  re 
turn,  she  was  mysterious  and  uncommunicative. 
Pressed  for  an  explanation,  she  replied  that  her 
mouth  was  sealed  and  she  could  tell  him  nothing. 
She  assured  him,  however,  that  there  was  in  the  note 
no  cause  for  despair,  and  that  he  ought  to  know  that 
only  a  sincere  interest  in  himself  dictated  its  writing. 
Further  she  insisted  that  he  must  obey  the  'note  liter 
ally  and  wait  for  the  chance  of  a  meeting  with  Bessie, 
when  she  would  explain  everything  to  his  satisfaction. 
Forced  to  be  content  with  this  Dick  went  away  early 
Monday  morning. 

In  the  meantime  Bob  had  conferred  with  his  co- 
conspirators.  He  had  related  to  them  all  the  details 
of  his  visit  and  had  made  them  understand  that  the 
success  of  their  scheme  depended  upon  their  ef 
forts  ;  that  with  having  found  the  supposed  Dugdale 
and  informed  him  of  his  prospects  the  Hetlow  party 
would  do  no  more  in  helping  him  to  possession,  but 
would  from  thence  out  assume  the  attitude  of  insist 
ing  upon  absolute  proof  of  identity  before  foregoing 
Miss  Hetlow's  claims  upon  the  property. 

That  which  troubled  Orton  Pierson  and  Moore 
most  was  the  knowledge  that  the  fact  of  the  dis- 

19* 


DICK'S  DISCOVERY.  191 

covery  of  the  supposed  heir  had  been  forwarded  to 
the  London  solicitor,  with  the  request  that  he  would 
come  to  the  States  and  take  charge  of  the  exami 
nation. 

It  was  Moore,  who,  after  prolonged  discussion, 
summed  the  matter  up. 

"  We  must  expect,  from  this  out,  opposition  from 
the  Hetlow  party,"  he  said.  "  Probably  it  will  be  the 
passive  one  of  questioning  proof,  but  it  will  be  opposi 
tion  all  the  same.  Now  it  seems  to  me  that  we 
are  not  going  to  drift  into  this  thing,  as  it  seemed  at 
first.  This  London  solicitor  will  come  here  to  make 
a  searching  examination,  and  this  thing  we  want  to 
stop.  The  way  to  do  it,  it  seems  to  me,  is  to  produce 
the  strongest  kind  of  proof  and  submit  it  to  the  Het 
low  party — proof  so  strong  that  they  will  be  con- 
vinced.  This  must  be  done  before  the  London 
lawyer  arrives,  so  that,  when  he  does  come,  he  will 
find  those  most  interested  in  having  the  proof  fail 
ready  to  yield  up  all  claim.  This  will  prejudice  him 
in  our  favor." 

This  seeming  to  be  the  wisest  course  it  was  agreed 
upon,  and  the  duty  of  determining  what  proof  was 
necessary,  and  of  concocting  it,  was  imposed  upon 
Moore  and  Pierson. 

"  That  proof  must  be  ready  by  Wednesday,"  said 
Bob,  "  for  I  have  promised  to  go  up  there  on  that 
day  and  submit  what  we  have." 

"  That  is  all  right,"  said  Orton  Pierson.  "  You 
can  carry  up  all  the  proof  we  have  then,  and  we  will 
give  you  enough  for  the  first  step.  It  will  be  the 
better  way  to  convince  them  gradually.  From  what 
Bob  says,"  he  continued  to  the  others,  "I  think 
they  are  really  convinced  now,  and  proof  is  all  that  is 
wanted  to  make  them  throw  up  their  hands." 

"  All  are  convinced  except  Mason,"  replied  Bob. 
"  That  fellow  doesn't  believe  in  me.  I  feel  that  he 


19*  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

distrusts  and  suspects  me.  He  doesn't  know  what  to 
take  hold  of,  but  he  suspects  something,  and  we  can 
expect  a  fight  from  him." 

"  We  must  silence  him  then,"  remarked  Ransom 
grimly. 

"  Nothing  violent,"  protested  Pierson  quickly.  "If 
there  is  to  be  anything  of  that  kind,  I'm  out  of  the 
matter  at  once." 

"  No,  no,"  put  in  Moore.     "  Nothing  of  that  kind." 

"  There  are  more  ways  of  silencing  him  than  cutting 
off  his  wind,  isn't  there?  "asked  Ransom  contemp 
tuously.  "  You  can  make  it  worth  his  while  to  drop 
the  business,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  You  can't  get  enough  money  to  make  him  do  that, 
Ransom,"  said  Bob  quietly. 

"  Well,  there  is  some  way,"  returned  Ransom. 
"  I'll  make  it  my  business  to  look  after  my  friend 
Mason." 

While  the  precious  quartette  were  scheming  and 
Ransom  was  devising  some  plan  to  neutralize  Dick  as 
a  suspicious  and  dangerous  person  to  them,  Dick  was 
devoting  himself  to  his  duties  at  the  office,  long  neg 
lected.  He  had  returned  to  them,  on  the  whole,  in  a 
contented  frame  of  mind.  He  was  under  no  deubt 
that  the  meaning  of  the  writing  of  the  note  was  that 
in  some  way  Mr.  Hetlow  had  discovered  his  love  for 
Bessie  and  had  threatened  to  deny  him  the  house. 
And  while  that  seemed  to  promise  obstruction  to  his 
suit,  the  fact  which  \ras  important  to  him  was  that 
Bessie  had  shown  a  deep  interest  in  himself  and  his 
well  being  and  had  promised  to  see  him  and  explain. 
There  was  such  assurance  of  her  love  in  this  that  Mr. 
Hetlow's  opposition  seemed  insignificant  beside  it. 
So  he  took  up  his  duties  quite  cheerfully. 

While  he  had  been  devoting  himself  to  the  search 
for  young  Dugdale,  the  interests  of  his  department 
had  been  largely  confided  to  an  assistant.  Growing 
out  of  some  differences  between  this  assistant  and 


DICK'S  DISCO  VER  Y.  l 93 

Certain  of  the  subordinates,  irregularities  in  a  ware 
house  of  the  concern,  immediately  under  Dick's 
charge,  had  become  apparent.  This  warehouse  was 
situated  in  Jackson  Street,  on  the  east  side  of  the 
city,  not  far  from  the  East  River.  One  of  the  first 
things  he  found  to  do  was  an  investigation  of  these 
irregularities,  and  on  Monday  morning  he  had  gone 
thither  for  that  purpose. 

Adjoining  this  warehouse  was  a  small  hotel,  largely 
patronized  by  'longshoremen,  and  also  frequented  by 
ethers,  whom  the  police  believed  to  be  connected  with 
river  piracy.  It  could  hardly  be  said  that  the  place 
was  under  surveillance.  No  disturbances  occurred 
there  calling  for  police  interference,  nor  was  it  charged 
that  crime  was  committed  there.  Order  was  main 
tained  among  a  class  of  customers  prone  to  turbulence 
by  the  proprietor,  who  when  occasion  occurred  could 
and  did  exercise  a  physical  power  that  made  all  stand 
in  awe  of  him.  While  crimes  were  not  charged 
against  this  man,  and  while  he  avoided  violations 
of  the  law,  yet  vague  rumors  were  afloat  as  to  a 
former  life  led  by  him,  when  such  could  not  have  been 
said  of  him. 

The  first  floor  of  this  house  was  largely  given  up  to 
the  liquor  business,  which  evidently  was  the  largest 
source  of  profit  to  the  establishment.  In  the  rear  of 
the  bar-room  was  a  small  room  containing  chairs  and 
tables  and  little  else,  which  was  called  the  reading- 
room.  This  room  was  lit  by  two  windows — one  upon 
the  side  looking  out  upon  the  alley  way  which  sepa 
rated  the  hotel  from  the  warehouse  owned  by  Het- 
low,  Altmount  &  Co.,  and  the  other  looked  out  upon 
a  small  yard  behind  the  house,  which  was  filled  with 
dog-kennels. 

In  the  rear  of  the  warehouse  was  an  office  which 
was  also  lit  by  a  window  looking  out  upon  the  alley 
way  spoken  of  above.  This  office  room  was  located 
in  a  part  of  the  warehouse,  far  back  of  the  rear  line 


194  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

of  the  hotel.  At  a  certain  period  of  the  day  before 
noon,  the  sun,  when  well  advanced  toward  meridian, 
shone  directly  through  the  rear  window  of  the  read 
ing-room  of  the  hotel,  filling  it  with  light.  At  such  a 
time  it  was  possible  for  one  standing  at  the  window 
of  the  office  of  the  warehouse  to  see  into  the  reading- 
room  and  distinctly  recognize  those  who  occupied  it. 

Dick,  who  had  been  engaged  for  some  time  in  the 
office  on  this  Monday  morning  examining  the  books, 
finally  rose  from  the  desk  at  which  he  had  been  at 
work,  and  went  to  the  single  window  of  the  room. 
As  he  looked  out  engrossed  in  thought,  he  was 
startled  by  recognizing  in  the  reading-room  of  the 
hotel  Harold  Pierson,  as  he  knew  him,  otherwise 
Bob,  and  Ransom,  the  man  who  had  given  him  the 
information  which  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  sup 
posed  Dugdale  heir.  A  second  glance  showed  him 
that  these  two,  with  two  others,  were  gathered  about 
a  table,  and  of  the  other  two,  one  seemed  to  be  a  man 
employed  by  Mr.  Hetlow  at  "  The  Larches" ;  the 
other  he  did  not  know. 

He  peered  through  the  window  earnestly.  There 
could  be  no  doubt  they  were  the  men  he  supposed 
them  to  be.  What  startled  him  was,  not  that  they 
were  in  that  place,  but  that  Ransom  and  Harold 
Pierson  should  be  together.  Ransom  had  pretended 
to  have  no  acquaintance  with  either  Orton  or  Harold 
Pierson.  And  in  his  conversation  with  him,  Orton 
Pierson  had  denied  knowledge  of  Ransom. 

While  he  was  thus  looking  upon  them  earnestly,  he 
saw  the  fourth  man,  whom  he  did  not  know,  look  up  and 
discover  him.  The  attention  of  the  others  was  directed 
to  him.  He  stepped  back  quickly — so  quickly  that 
the  other  three,  who  sprang  to  their  feet  immediately, 
were  not  able  to  see  him.  The  incident  took  complete 
possession  of  him.  The  more  he  thought  of  it,  the 
more  perplexed  he  became.  Morever  it  unfitted  him 


DICK '  S  DISCO  VER  Y.  19$ 

for  the  duty  which  had  taken  him  to  the  warehouse. 
After  a  vain  endeavor  to  give  his  attention  to  his  busi 
ness,  he  postponed  further  labor  until  the  next  day,  and 
taking  his  hat  went  out  into  the  street. 

As  he  stepped  from  the  door  of  the  warehouse  he 
perceived  Ransom  in  conversation  with  the  fourth 
man,  on  the  pavement  in  front  of  the  hotel.  His  first 
impulse  was  to  go  back  and  thus  avoid  a  meeting.  A 
second  thought,  however,  determined  him  to  go  forward 
and  pass  the  two  without  recognition.  But  as  he  at 
tempted  to  do  so,  Ransom  stepped  in  front  of  him, 
and  in  his  dulcet  tones  said  : 

"  This  is  Mr.  Mason,  I  believe  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Dick  replied  curtly. 

"  I  thought  so.  I'm  not  often  mistaken  in  faces. 
Did  you  ever  find  the  man  you  were  looking  for  ? 
Was  the  man  I  told  you  of  the  one  ?  " 

These  questions  were  asked  with  an  excellent  as 
sumption  of  interest. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dick  coldly,  with  a  grave  face,  main 
taining  a  reserve  amounting  to  severity.  "Yes,  I 
found  the  man,  and  I  saw  him  a  short  time  ago  in  a 
room  in  this  place  with  you." 

"  In  there  ? "  said  Ransom,  with  well  assumed  as 
tonishment.  "  You  are  mistaken,  surely.  A  few 
minutes  ago  I  was  in  the  reading-room  of  this  hotel 
with  three  men,  whom  I  met  on  business  here.  This 
gentleman,"  indicating  the  one  whom  he  had  been 
talking  with  and  who  was  still  standing  by,  "was  one 
of  them.  He's  the  captain  of  a  stone  scow.  The 
others  were  contractors  for  cut  stone.  I'm  in  the 
quarry  business.  Their  names  are  Johnson  and  Nes- 
mith — partners.  No,  you  are  mistaken." 

The  guilelessness  with  which  this  was  said  staggered 
Dick  and  for  the  time  induced  him  to  believe  that  he 
was  mistaken.  So  he  bowed  slightly  but  still  haughtily, 
and  went  his  way. 


196  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Ransom  watched  him  turn  the  corner.  Apparently 
satisfying  himself  that  Dick  had  really  gone,  he  went 
into  the  hotel  where  he  was  joined  by  Bob. 

"  Has  he  gone  ?  "  Bob  asked. 

"  Yes,  he's  off." 

"  Did  he  see  me  ?  " 

"Yes  ;  but  I  think  I  drove  him  out  of  that  idea. 
What  infernal  luck  !  This  is  the  last  place  in  which  I 
would  have  expected  to  meet  him." 

"  Didn't  you  know  that  this  warehouse  belonged  to 
Hetlow,  Altmont  &  Co.  ?"  asked  Bob  complainingly. 

"  No,  I  only  knew  a  warehouse  was  here." 

"  It's  a  fine  kettle  of  fish  to  put  before  Pierson  and 
Moore,"  said  Bob,  as  they  walked  away. 

In  the  meantime  Dick  had  gone  directly  to  the  Cliff 
Street  office.  As  he  walked  along  the  street,  he 
thought  upon  the  incident,  returning  to  the  belief  that 
Harold  Pierson  was  in  that  room,  and  he  determined 
that  Ransom  had  purposely  put  himself  in  his  way  to 
throw  him  out  of  that  belief. 

Arriving  at  the  office,  and,  upon  inquiry,  finding 
that  Mr.  Hetlow  was  in  his  room,  Dick  went  to  him. 

Dick  was  keenly  observant  when  he  entered  the 
room,  for  he  expected  to  find  something  to  confirm  his 
theory  as  to  Bessie's  note.  A  slight  chilliness  of  de 
meanor  and  some  little  constraint  was  all  he  could 
observe. 

Having  related  the  incident  of  the  morning,  he 
waited  for  some  comment  from  the  merchant. 

"  But  it  seems  from  the  man  Ransom's  statement 
you  were  mistaken."  was  Mr.  Hetlow's  first  remark. 

"I  don't  think  I  was,"  replied  Dick  positively. 
"  The  more  I  think  of  it  the  more  I  am  satisfied  I  was 
not." 

"  How  much  of  a  trick  has  your  imagination  played 
you?"  asked  Mr.  Hetlow.  "You  know  your  mind 
has  been  upon  this  matter  and  its  associations  for 
many  days,  to  the  exclusion  of  ever "  he  stopped 


DICK ' S  DISCO  VER  Y.  1 97 

suddenly  as  he  thought  of  the  story  of  Dick's  love  for 
Bessie. 

"Of  everything  else,  you  would  say,"  Dick  went 
on,  completing  the  sentence.  "I'm  not  particularly 
imaginative,  sir,  and  I  am  quite  certain  my  imagination 
has  not  tricked  me.  I  am  positive  I  saw  Harold  Pier- 
son  with  Ransom,  and  I  would  so  testify  under  oath 
before  a  jury." 

"  Well,  suppose  you  did  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Hetlow  in  a 
controversial  tone.  "  Of  what  significance  would  it 
be?" 

"  Well,  sir,"  replied  Dick  thoughtfully  "  under  all 
the  circumstances,  it  seems  to  me,  it  would  be  of  the 
greatest  significance.  Let  me  argue  it,  if  you  please. 
We  put  an  advertisement  in  the  papers  asking  anyone 
having  knowledge  of  Edmund  Dugdale  to  commu 
nicate  with  me.  In  the  course  of  time  Ransom  ap 
pears,  assuming  to  have  knowledge  of  him,  of  Powers, 
of  the  child,  and  of  its  adoption  but — and  here  is  the 
first  point — he  has  no  recollection  of  the  person  or 
persons  adopting  the  child.  Subsequently,  after  a 
reasonable  time,  he  writes  a  letter  in  which  he  says  he 
has  recollected  the  name  and  it  is  Pierson,  which  let 
ter — and  here  is  the  second  point — is  couched  in  such 
terms  as  to  convey  the  idea  that  he  has  no  knowledge 
of,  or  acquaintance  with,  the  people.  Yet,  notwithstand 
ing  all  this,  the  next  time  I  see  him,  I  find  him  in  com 
pany  with  Harold  Pierson,  who  purports  to  be  young 
Dugdale,  and  when  I  intimate  I  have  seen  him  in 
such  company  he  denies  it.  Now,  sir,  if  there  was  no 
significance  in  these  facts,  if  he  had  made  Dugdale's 
or  Harold  Pierson's  acquaintance  subsequent  to  his 
calling  upon  me,  either  by  accident,  or  by  open  effort, 
if  he  did  not  want  to  still  leave  me  in  the  same  mind 
that  he  did  not  know  him,  why  did  he  deny  it  ?  Now, 
sir"  continued  Dick,  growing  more  argumentative, 
"the  place,  which  I  know  is  not  a  reputable  place, 
is  the  last  place  a  man  of  the  breeding  of  Harold  Pier- 


198  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

son  would  think  of  visiting — this  also  is  suspicious 
and  significant." 

"  You  do  not  deny  that  Harold  Pierson  is,  so  far  as 
we  can  judge,  from  manner  and  breeding,  a  gentle 
man  ? " 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Dick,  "  I  do  not ;  yet  I  know  that 
on  seeing  him  I  was  instinctively  filled  with  distrust." 

Mr.  Hetlow  had  felt  something  of  this  and  was  silent 
for  some  time. 

"  Then  there  is  something  else,"  Dick  went  on  after 
awhile.  "  The  day  I  arrived  at  Springhill — the  day. 
I  mean,  you  were  upon  your  yacht — I  wandered  to  the 
river  and  watched  from  the  rocks  a  boat  pulling  for 
the  shore  to  land  a  man.  This  man  seemed  to  me  to 
be  one  in  your  employ.  The  man  pulling  the  boat 
was  Ransom,  I  thought.  The  man  landing  and  in 
your  employ  was  in  this  group  to-day.  Again,  the 
night  that  Lord  Merrimount  was  attacked  on  your 
grounds,  when  he,  Miss  Hetlow,  Miss  Gladwin,  and 
myself  were  walking,  I  thought,  as  I  ran  to  Merri- 
mount's  assistance,  that  the  man  attacking  him  was 
Ransom.  He  was  running  away  at  the  time  and 
it  was  dark,  to  be  sure,  but  I  said  at  the  time  I 
thought  it  was  he." 

"  You  make  a  strong  case,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow  smil 
ing,  "  but  after  all,  is  it  not  based  upon  unsubstantial 
grounds  ?  It  seems  so  to  me." 

"It  may  be,"  replied  Dick.  "But  I  am  very 
strongly  impressed  that  something  is  wrong." 

"  Let  us  assume,"  suggested  Mr.  Hetlow,  "that  all 
these  things  are  really  as  you  suppose  them  to  be  and 
they  actually  are — your  conclusion  would  be  what  ?  " 

"  That  there  is  a  conspiracy  on  foot  to  possess  them 
selves  of  this  great  wealth.  That  is  the  logical  con 
clusion  we  must  come  to." 

The  old  merchant  seemed  shocked  by  Dick's  words 
and  manner. 

"  Your  conclusion  is  a  startling  one,"  he  said.  "  I 
cannot  follow  you  in  it." 


DICK 'S  DISCO  VER  Y.  1 99 

"  Well,  sir,  starting  with  the  assumption  you  yourself 
made,  there  can  be  no  other  outcome,"  replied  Dick, 
firmly  but  respectfully. 

"  Your  grounds  are  too  vague,  too  unsubstantial," 
said  the  old  merchant  sharply. 

Dick  did  not  reply  for  a  time.  Both  were  thinking 
on  their  own  lines  and  both  would  have  been  startled 
had  each  given  the  other  his  thoughts. 

Finally  Dick  broke  the  silence  by  asking: 

"  Mr.  Hetlow,  if  you  assume  that  Harold  Pierson  is 
in  fact  young  Dugdale,  the  search  for  Dugdale  is 
ended,  and  the  commission  I  received  at  your  hands 
six  weeks  ago  is  accomplished." 

"  I  presume  so,"  replied  the  merchant  indifferently. 

"  If  that  view  is  taken  by  you  I  will  ask  to  be  re 
lieved  from  further  charge  of  the  matter,  and  beg  to 
be  permitted  to  return  to  the  duties  of  my  department. 
In  some  things  it  is  suffering  for  want  of  proper  at 
tention." 

The  old  merchant  was  now  interested. 

"  But  I  don't  think  the  matter  has  reached  the  point 
where  we  can  assume  that.  I  think  you  should  still 
devote  some  further  time  to  the  matter." 

"  Then,  sir,  I  should  ask  to  be  permitted  to  pursue  an 
investigation  on  the  lines  I  have  suggested  this  morn 
ing." 

"  You  seem  strangely  persistent  in  this." 

"  Perhaps  I  am,  As  I  have  said  I  am  strongly  im 
pressed.  My  suspicions  have  been  aroused  and  are 
alert.  There  is,  however,  another  matter  influencing 
me.  It  was  pointed  out  to  me  by  Mr.  Stanton,  though 
it  had  never  been  in  my  mind  until  then,  that  in  view 

of  the "  he  brought  himself  up  with  a  round  turn, 

for  in  his  earnestness  he  was  about  to  admit  to  Mr. 
Hetlow  his  fondness  for  Bessie,  but  recovering  quickly 
on  thinking  that  if  ever  there  was  an  issue  to  be 
made  between  Mr.  Hetlow  and  himself  on  this  matter, 
there  could  be  no  better  time,  he  went  on — "that  in 
view  of  a  certain  fact,  the  mention  of  which  is  not  es- 


200  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

sential  to  my  point,  I  might  be  open  to  the  charge  of 
producing  a  Dugdale  in  any  event.  Since  that  might 
occur,  and  since  I  did  find  a  supposed  Dugdale  in 
Harold  Pierson,  it  behooves  me,  in  protection  of  my 
own  honor,  to  be  sure  the  real  Dugdale  is  found." 

Mr.  Hetlow  had  instinctively  felt  that  Bessie  was  in 
some  manner  involved  in  this  point,  but  how  he  could 
not  see.  If  Dick  had  hopes  of  securing  his  daughter's 
hand,  he  might  naturally  wish  her  to  have  all  the  money 
she  could  have.  Perhaps  this  was  the  motive  of 
Dick's  persistency  he  thought,  but  he  evaded  the  issue 
presented.  He  was  not  ready  for  the  struggle. 

"  Well,  Mason,  perhaps  there  is  a  great  deal  in  what 
you  say"  he  said,  after  some  thought.  "To  be  frank 
with  you,  I  must  say  I  don't  think  there  is.  Suppose 
we  postpone  any  conclusion  until  we  can  consult  Stan- 
ton.  I  shall  not  go  to  Dobbs  Ferry  to-night.  I  have 
a  meeting  to  attend  this  evening.  But  I'll  go  up 
to-morrow.  You  come  up  too.  Wednesday  you  know 
Harold  Pierson  is  to  come  to  us,  and  I  want  you  to  be 

there.  So  you  come  up  and "  he  in  his  turn 

brought  himself  up  short,  for  he  was  heedlessly  rush 
ing  in  to  do  what  he  had  only  two  days  ago  declared 
he  would  not  do,  but  went  on — "  and  we'll  talk  it  over." 

"Very  well,"  said  Dick.  "Until  then  we'll  leave 
matters  as  they  are." 

He  left  the  apartment  puzzled  by  Mr.  Hetlow's 
contradictory  attitude. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  TIN  BOX. 

THOUGH  he  had  acquiesced  in  Mr.  Hetlow's  sug 
gestion  that  no  action  should  be  taken  until  Mr. 
Stanton  should  be  consulted,  Dick  was  not  satisfied. 
The  incident  of  the  day  grew  in  importance  the  more 
he  considered  it.  The  companionship  of  Harold 
Pierson  and  Ransom  might  be  satisfactorily  ex 
plained,  but  at  present  in  his  eyes  it  had  a  decidedly 
sinister  appearance.  Mr.  Hetlow's  disinclination  to 
accord  any  importance  to  his  theory  nettled  him,  and 
he  was  doubtless  influenced  to  some  extent  by  his 
chagrin,  when  he  finally  determined  to  get  certain  in 
quiries  on  foot  without  further  delay. 

Accordingly  he  sought  Captain  Lawton  in  his 
office.  To  that  celebrated  detective  he  related  the 
events  with  which  the  reader  is  familiar,  closing  with 
his  experience  of  the  morning. 

"Now,"  continued  Dick,  "this  may  or  may  not 
appear  significant  to  you,  but  to  me  it  seems  most 
important." 

"  It  seems  so  suspicious  to  me,"  replied  the  cap. 
tain,  "that  I  think  an  investigation  should  be  begun 
without  delay." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Dick, 
highly  pleased  to  have  his  judgment  confirmed. 
"  Mr.  Hetlow  evidently  regards  my  suspicion  and 
theory  as  fanciful.  But  I  think  he  is  influenced  by  a 
matter,  not  even  remotely  connected  with  this  case, 
but  which  disposes  him  to  look  upon  me  with  some 
disfavor." 

"  I  do  not  know  that  upon  the  grounds  you  present 


202  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

I  should  be  disposed  to  accept  your  theory,  but  the 
facts  you  have  presented  certainly  justify  examina 
tion,"  remarked  the  captain. 

"  Perhaps  I  am  influenced  to  a  degree  by  the  im 
pressions  the  young  man  Pierson  has  made  upon 
me,"  returned  Dick.  "  These  I  cannot  communicate 
to  you,  but  if  I  could,  1  think  you  would  see  that  I 
have  some  justification  for  my  theory.  However,  I 
want  to  know  all  I  can  know  about  Ransom,  Orton 
Pierson,  and  Harold  Pierson,  and  what,  if  any,  relation 
or  acquaintanceship  exists  between  them,  how  close 
it  is,  and  how  long  it  has  existed.  To  know  that 
these  inquiries  are  being  made  would  give  me  an 
ease  of  mind  1  would  not  have  if  they  were  not  on  foot." 

Captain  Lawton  promised  to  make  the  investiga 
tion  and  report  as  promptly  as  he  could. 

The  following  day  brought  forth  nothing,  and  Dick 
without  interruption  devoted  himself  to  the  duties 
of  his  department.  On  Wednesday  morning,  however, 
he  received  a  message  -from  Captain  Lawton  which 
caused  him  to  felicitate  himself  for  having  set  the 
inquiry  on  foot.  The  captain's  message  was  to  the 
effect,  that  while  he  had  not  been  able  to  progress 
very  far,  he  had  yet  learned  that  Ransom  was  a  fre 
quent  visitor  at  Orton  Pierson's  house ;  that,  in  com 
pany  with  a  Tombs  lawyer  named  Moore,  he  waited 
at  Pierson's  office  for  Harold  Pierson's  return  on 
Saturday  morning.  The  significant  point  of  the 
message  was,  that  Captain  Lawton  had  come  to  know 
that  Dick  was  himself  followed  by  a  man  wherever 
he  went,  and  had  been  since  Monday  night.  For 
what  purpose  the  captain  could  not  determine,  but 
he  warned  Dick  to  govern  himself  by  the  knowledge 
and  not  betiay  any  recognition  of  it,  because  that 
shadow  was  shadowed  by  one  of  Captain  Lawton's 
men,  charged  with  the  duty  of  finding  out  its  mean 
ing. 

It  was  shortly  after  he  received  this  information, 


THE  TIN  BOX.  203 

that  Dick  set  out  for  Springhill  in  conformity  with 
the  desires  of  Mr.  Hetlow  that  he  should  be  present 
at  the  time  of  Harold  Pierson's  second  visit  to  "  The 
Larches." 

No  sooner  had  he  entered  the  car  which  was  to 
convey  him  to  Dobbs  Ferry,  than  his  eyes  fell  upon 
young  Pierson,  who  recognized  him  at  once  with  a 
courteous  bow.  Dick  returned  the  salutation  some 
what  coldly,  hoping  thereby  to  be  left  to  himself. 
But  he  had  not  seated  himself  before  Bob  moved 
across  the  car  and  taking  a  seat  in  front  of  him, 
saying  : 

"  We  are  fellow-travelers." 

"  Yes,  you  of  course  are  bound  for  '  The  Larches.'  '* 

The  purpose  young  Pierson  had  in  talking  with 
Dick,  and  as  well  the  policy  which  had  been  deter 
mined  upon  by  the  conspirators  as  to  the  awkward 
discovery  by  Dick  of  Harold  in  Ransom's  company, 
was  made  apparent. 

"  I  am  going  to  '  The  Larches,'  "  replied  Bob, 
"  rather  in  obedience  to  the  understanding  of  last 
week  than  in  any  belief  that  I  shall  advance  my  claim. 
Father  has  found  something  which  my  lawyer  says  is 
proof,  but  which  I  am  bound  to  confess  does  not  ap 
pear  conclusive  to  me.  He  says  there  are  other 
papers  which  he  may  be  able  to  find  and  which  he 
says  are  much  stronger.  Were  it  not  that  it  is  at  Mr. 
Hetlow's  suggestion,  and  that  it  would  seem  childish 
and  discourteous  to  refuse,  I  would  not  think 
of  submitting  this  stuff.  It  is  really  embarrassing 
to  go  to  '  The  Larches,'  for  I  cannot  divest  my 
self  of  the  idea  that  I  am  seeking  to  deprive  the  Het 
low  family  of  an  estate  that  belongs  to  it  by  right. 
Indeed  this  feeling  was  so  strong  upon  me  that  I  was 
disposed  to  hunt  you  up  in  the  city  and  ask  you  to 
convey  the  proof  to  Mr.  Hetlow." 

"  I  saw  you  on  Monday,"  said  Dick  coldly,  eying 
him  keenly. 


204  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"  Indeed,  where  ?  "  asked  Bob,  apparently  much 
interested. 

"  In  Jackson  Street,  in  a  hotel  adjoining  our  ware 
house." 

"  Oh,  yes,  did  you  indeed  ?  Rum  place,  isn't  it  ? 
I  never  was  there  before." 

His  frank  admission  actually  confounded  Dick,  who 
had  prepared  himself  for  a  courteous  denial. 

"  So  that  big  building  is  your  warehouse  ?  "  returned 
Bob.  "  It  is  not  particularly  ornamental,  but  it  cer 
tainly  is  substantial  and  extensive.  I  don't  remember 
to  have  ever  been  in  that  part  of  the  town  before.  A 
man  named  Ransom  hunted  me  up,  declaring  that  he 
knew  my  father — that  is  Dugdale,  if  I  am  Dugdale — 
this  having  two  fathers  is  confusing — where  was  I  ? — 
Oh,  he  hunted  me  up  and  said  he  could  help  me 
prove  my  identity,  and  carried  me  over  to  that  place  to 
see  a  man  who  could  give  me  proof.  I  don't  know 
whether  there  is  anything  in  it  or  not,  but  he  says  he 
can  substantiate  father's  statement,  that  is  Mr.  Pier- 
son's  statement,  that  he  received  me  from  Powers, 
and  that  the  child  given  up  by  James  Powers  was  a 
child  of  Dugdale  the  dead  lodger  of  Powers." 

"  I  saw  Ransom  ;  he  denied  that  you  were  there," 
said  Dick,  hardly  yet  recovered  from  his  confusion. 

"  Denied  it  ?  What  for  ?  "  Bob's  innocence  was  ini 
mitable. 

"  I  am  unable  to  tell." 

"  That  is  singular,"  mused  Bob.  "  Why  should  he 
deny  my  being  there?  There  was  no  reason  for  se 
crecy.  Perhaps  he  thought  you  were  antagonistic 
to  me  and  that  he  was  serving  me  in  denying  my  pres 
ence  there." 

"  Perhaps  !  "  Dick  said,  and  asked,  "  How  long 
have  you  known  Ransom?" 

"  Since  last  Saturday  or  Sunday — which  was  it  ? 
Saturday,  that  was  the  day." 

Dick's  house  was  a  house  of  cards  and  was  tumbled 


THE  TIN  BOX.  205 

to  the  ground,  if  this  were  the  truth.  Under  the  in 
fluence  of  Bob's  frankness,  Dick  thawed  and  actually 
became  genial.  The  conversation  drifted  into  other 
channels,  and  they  conversed  easily  until  they  reached 
the  station  where  they  were  to  leave  the  cars. 

Mr.  Hetlow  had  sent  his  carriage  to  meet  Harold 
Pierson.  As  the  latter  undertook  to  enter  it,  he  asked 
Dick  if  he  would  not  ride  with  him.  Dick,  however, 
in  no  mood  to  accept  the  hospitality  of  Mr.  Hetlow, 
and  especially  by  proxy,  made  some  excuse  and  turned 
away.  As  he  did  so  he  saw  Wallis  leaning  from  her 
carriage,  endeavoring  to  attract  his  attention. 

"  I  fancied  you  would  come  by  this  train,  so  I  drove 
down  for  you,"  she  said,  as  he  approached.  "  1  want 
to  talk  with  you.  I  was  afraid  you  might  do  or  say 
something  that  would  prevent  you  from  doing  what 
we  want  you  to  do." 

"  And  who  may  this  '  we  '  be  ?"  asked  Dick. 

;' Bessie  and  myself.  Mr.  Hetlow  expects  you  to 
go  over  to  'The  Larches'  with  us  to-night.  And 
Bessie  got  into  a  state  of  mind  over  the  fear  that  be 
cause  of  her  letter  you  would  refuse  to  come.  Now, 
since  Mr.  Hetlow  has  never  carried  out  his  threat, 
you  see  it  would  look  as  if  Bessie  had  communicated 
it  to  you,  if  you  refused  to  go." 

"Oh,  so  Mr.  Hetlow  did  threaten  to  deny  me  the 
house  ? " 

Wallis  laughed  merrily. 

"  That  is  one  little  kitten  out  of  the  bag." 

"  Perhaps  you'll  let  enough  other  little  kittens  out 
to  make  a  whole  cat,"  said  Dick,  "  so  as  to  relieve  me 
from  my  distressful  condition." 

"  If  you  are  patient  and  very  watchful  perhaps  they 
may  come,"  replied  Wallis.  "  I  see  that  Mr.  Pierson 
came  up  in  the  same  train.  Do  you  know  anything 
more  ?" 

"  Little  going  to  prove  his  identity — a  great  deal 
toward  setting  up  doubts  and  suspicions," 


206  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Then  he  told  her  the  occurrences  of  the  day  and 
added : 

"  The  man  puzzles  me.  There  is  so  much  about 
him  that  is  suave  and  persuasive,  contradictory  and 
distrustful,  that  I  am  perplexed.  I  doubt  my  con 
clusions  and  sensations  when  I  am  with  him.  I  dis 
trust  him  most  strongly  when  I  am  not.  And  so  I 
swing  between  distrust  and  confidence." 

Their  talk  had  brought  them  to  Springhill,  where 
they  found  Mr.  Stanton  awaiting  them  at  the  front 
entrance. 

"  Get  out,  Wallis,"  he  exclaimed,  as  they  drove  up. 
"  You  stay  in,  Mason.  I  want  to  go  to  the  village. 
Drive  with  me,  so  1  can  talk  to  you." 

Thus  commanded  Wallis  dismounted,  and  Dick 
drove  off  with  Mr.  Stanton. 

It  was  yet  quite  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  Wallis 
thought  she  would  run  over  to  "The  Larches"  and 
relieve  Bessie  from  her  apprehensions  as  to  Dick's 
conduct. 

There  was  another  passenger  upon  the  cars,  un 
noticed  by  Dick,  who,  if  he  had  seen  her,  would  have 
undoubtedly  altered  the  course  of  this  story  very 
considerably.  Hardly  had  Mr.  Stanton  turned  out  of 
one  gate,  than  another  carriage  drove  in  the  other  gate. 

From  it,  at  the  front  entrance  alighted  Mrs.  Jen 
kins  bearing  in  her  hand  a  tin  box.  As  before  she 
wore  the  red  shawl,  the  vivid  color  of  which  caught 
the  eye  of  Mrs.  Stanton,  who  was  in  the  hall. 

She  hurried  forward  to  meet  the  newcomer,  much 
excited  and  flurried.  Curiosity  struggled  with  anger 
for  her  possession,  but  curiosity  won  the  day,  and 
under  its  influence  she  was  enabled,  with  comparative 
calmness,  to  meet  the  woman  whose  existence,  first  in 
her  dreams,  and  then  in  the  flesh,  had  given  her  so 
much  uneasiness. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Mason,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins. 

"He  is  not  here,"  said  Mrs,  Stanton,  "although  he 
is  expected  this  afternoon," 


THE  TIN  BOX.  207 

In  this  she  was  truthful,  for  she  did  not  know  that 
Dick  had  arrived. 

"  Is  Mr.  Stanton  here  then  ?  " 

"  No,  he  is  not  here.  I  heard  him  say  he  was  going 
to  the  village." 

Mrs.  Jenkins  seemed  to  be  greatly  disappointed. 
Indeed  she  said  so,  and  added  : 

"I  have  come  all  the  way  from  Philadelphia  to 
bring  this  box." 

Mrs.  Stanton,  who  was  trembling  with  excitement 
and  hesitation  over  the  fact  that  she  was  alone  with 
the  woman  and  on  the  eve  of  making  a  great  dis 
covery,  could  not  control  herself  for  the  moment. 
Mrs  Jenkins  went  on. 

"  Are  you  Mrs.  Stanton  ?" 

"  I  am,"  said  that  lady.  "And  I  am  glad  you  rec 
ognize  it." 

Mrs.  Jenkins  looked  up  at  her  astonished,  but  went 
on  : 

"  No  doubt  you  know  what  my  business  is  here  ?  " 

"  I  know  well  enough  what  it  is,  and  that  it  is  not 
what  they  say  it  is." 

Again  Mrs.  Jenkins  looked  at  her,  astonished  more 
at  her  tone  than  her  words. 

"  Oh,  then,  if  that  is  so  I  can  talk  about  it." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  you  can  talk.  I  wish  you  would.  Where 
is  the  baby  ?  " 

"  That  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Jenkins  seriously, 
"but  I  am  quite  certain  that  this  box  tells  all  about 
it,  and  my  husband  thinks  so  too." 

"  Oh,  you  have  a  husband  then  ?  " 

"Certainly  I  have.  I've  been  married  seven 
years." 

"  Oh,  you  hare.  Does  he  agree  to  all  this  busi 
ness  ? " 

"  Why,  yes,  why  should  he  not  ?  " 

"Some  husbands  might  object  ;  yours  seems  very 
complacent." 

"  He  is  a  good  man — very  good  to  me." 


2c8  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"  He  must  be.  Are  you  the  woman  who  put  the 
baby  away  for  adoption  ? " 

"  Why,  no  ;  of  course  not.  I  am  a  daughter  of  the 
woman." 

Mrs.  Stanton  stared  and  murmured  : 

"  Worse  and  worse.  But  the  cards  and  my  dreams 
said  it  was  a  blonde  woman  in  a  red  shawl."  Then 
suddenly  she  asked  : 

"  Was  your  mother  a  blonde  woman,  and  did  she 
wear  a  red  shawl  ?  " 

"Why,  yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Jenkins;  "my  mother 
was  a  blonde,  and  she  did  wear  this  very  shawl." 

Mrs.  Stanton  was  so  relieved  and  confirmed  that  she 
was  quite  happy  and  changed  her  tone  toward  Mrs. 
Jenkins. 

"  It  is  all  right  then.  Well,  what  more  have  you  to 
say  ?  " 

"  1  have  nothing  more  to  say  than  I  have  told  you. 
All  I  can  tell  and  perhaps  more  is  to  be  found  in  this 
box.  I  am  sorry  not  to  have  seen  Mr.  Mason,  but  he 
will  know  all  about  it.  My  mother  was  Mrs.  Powers. 
She  cared  for  the  baby  of  Mr.  Dugdale  after  Mrs. 
Tomlinson  gave  it  up,  and  she  gave  it  out  for  adop 
tion—she  and  my  father  that  is — and  it  is  all  to  be 
found  there  in  this  box." 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and,  handing  the  box  to  Mrs. 
Stanton,  she  said  : 

"  I  cannot  wait,  for  I  want  to  go  back  on  the  next 
train  to  meet  my  husband.  Will  you  hand  that  box 
to  Mr.  Mason  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs  Stanton  grimly,  "  I'll  hand  it 
to  Mr.  Mason,"  and  she  added  in  an  under  breath, 
"  when  I've  examined  the  box  myself." 

She  accompanied  Mrs.  Jenkins  to  the  veranda  and 
saw  her  drive  off.  Then  returning  she  caught  up  the 
box,  which  she  had  laid  on  the  table,  exclaiming  : 

"  Now,  we'll  get  at  the  bottom  of  this  mystery. 
Dugdale,  indeed  !  How  they  do  try  to  deceive  me. 


THE  TIN  BOX.  209 

And  how  well  they've  trained  this  woman  to  carry  out 
the  deceit." 

She  tried  to  open  the  box.     It  was  locked. 

"Ah  !  it  is  locked,"  she  cried,  in  bitter  disappoint 
ment.  "  That  is  another  of  their  tricks.  I  suppose 
Mr.  Mason  has  the  key.  Well,"  she  cried,  with 
sudden  determination,  "  that  won't  save  them.  They 
will  not  see  the  inside  of  it  until  I  have,  key  or  no  key." 

She  hurried  off  to  conceal  the  box. 

When  Wallis  returned  she  found  her  aunt  greatly 
excited,  but  was  unable  to  obtain  any  reason,  beyond 
some  mysterious  hints  as  to  having  the  key  to  the 
mystery  which  had  for  so  long  a  time  baffled  her. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

MRS.  STANTON'S  INTRIGUE. 

ON  this  occasion  the  Stanton  family  was  not  asked 
to  dine  with  the  claimant.  Consequently  before  the 
people  from  Springhill  reached  "  The  Larches,"  dinner 
had  been  dispatched.  Mrs.  Stanton  and  Wallis  sought 
Bessie  in  the  drawing-room,  while  Mr.  Stanton  and 
Dick  went  into  the  library,  where  Mr.  Hetlow  and 
Harold  Pierson  were  smoking. 

Dick  had  hoped  for  a  meeting  with  Bessie  if  only 
for  a  moment,  and  indeed  Wallis  had  endeavored 
to  bring  one  about,  but  Mr.  Stanton  had  prevented  it, 
by  insisting  that  Dick  should  accompany  him  at  once 
to  the  library. 

Whatever  fear  Bob  might  have  entertained  as  to  the 
effect  of  the  discovery  made  by  Dick  on  the  previous 
Monday,  it  was  quite  apparent  that  he  had  been  re 
assured  by  the  welcome  accorded  him  by  Mr.  Hetlow. 
When  Mr.  Stanton  and  Dick  entered  he  was  enjoying 
his  cigar  with  a  serene  confidence  that  greatly  im 
pressed  Dick. 

Before  he  took  a  seat,  Dick  asked  a  few  moments' 
private  conversation  with  Mr.  Hetlow. 

The  old  merchant  was  not  a  little  astonished  at  the 
request,  but  nevertheless  accorded  it.  To  him  Dick 
related  the  conversation  with  Harold  Pierson  on  the 
cars,  and  concluding,  said  : 

"  I  feel  I  have  unduly  prejudiced  you  by  what  I  told 
you  on  Monday,  and  it  seemed  to  me  due  to  young 
Pierson  that  I  should,  before  you  go  on  with  this  talk 
to-night,  tell  you  this." 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have,"  warmly  replied  Mr. 


MRS.   STAN  TON'S  INTRIGUE.  21 1 

Hetlow.  "  But  your  fair-mindedness  does  not  as- 
tonish  me.  This  conversation  puts  the  suspicion  you 
entertained  to  rest." 

This  was  not  the  effect  Dick  desired  to  produce. 
But  he  could  not  change  it  now,  and  they  returned  to 
the  others. 

It  was  Bob  himself  who  opened  the  subject  : 

"  When  I  was  last  here,"  he  said,  "  it  was  understood 
that  I  should  return  to-day  and  present  such  proof  as 
was  at  my  command,  going  to  establish  my  identity  as 
young  Dugclale.  I  am  here  for  that  purpose,  and  I 
have  here " 

"  One  moment,"  interrupted  Mr.  Stanton.  "  Mr. 
Hetlow,  it  is  but  just  that  Mr.  Pierson  should  be  ac 
quainted  with  the  fact  that  we  are,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  antagonists,  and  that  there  is  no  obligation 
resting  upon  Mr.  Pierson  to  disclose  his  proof  to  you — 
to  the  other  side,  who  might  thereby  take  an  advantage 
of  him.  Since  he  is  not  represented  or  advised  by 
counsel,  it  is  but  fair  to  say  so." 

"  That  is  true,  Mr.  Pierson,"  promptly  said  Mr. 
Hetlow. 

"  I  understand  the  spirit  of  fairness  which  prompts 
the  remark,"  said  Bob,  "  and  I  thank  you.  But  I  do 
not  apprehend  that  an  unfair  advantage  will  be  taken 
by  anyone  who  can  preface  a  consultation  by  such  a 
warning.  However,  I  desire  to  say  that,  if  this  prop 
erty  is  ever  to  come  to  me,  I  want  it  to  come  with  the 
full  acquiescence  of  all  here.  Therefore  I  propose  to 
show  you  here  to-night  all  the  proof  I  have.  I  am 
bound  to  say  that  it  does  not  appear  to  me  to  be 
much." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  a  package,  which  he  un 
wrapped. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  "  is  a  ring  which  my  father  says  was 
taken  from  my  father's  hand — I  beg  pardon — I  will 
phrase  it  this  way  ;  which  Mr.  Pierson  says  was  taken 
from  Edmund  Dugdale's  hand  after  death.  It  is 


2 1 2  THE  D  UGDALE  MILLIONS. 

much  worn  as  you  will  perceive  ;  also  that  the  seal  is 
so  battered  that  the  insignia  is  almost  undecipher 
able.  I  am  well  enough  acquainted  with  these  things 
to  know  that  it  is  a  ring  of  rare  make,  but  I  cannot 
see  that  any  proof  exists  in  it." 

It  was  passed  from  hand  to  hand  and  returned  to 
him. 

"Then,"  he  went  on,  "there  is  here  a  bit  of  poetry 
addressed  to  one  '  Loie/  whoever  that  may  be,  which 
seems  to  have  been  keyed  in  the  sentiment  that  the 
'world's  well  lost  for  love.'  It  intimates  that  that  is 
what  the  writer  has  done,  yet  is  well  content." 

This  was  passed  around. 

As  Dick  took  it  he  said  : 

"  Loie  was  the  given  name  of  Edmund  Dugdale's 
wife." 

"  Ah  !  It  is  proof  then,  to  a  certain  degree,"  said 
Mr.  Stanton. 

"  Then  here  is  another  bit  of  poetry  in  the  same 
hand,  addressed  to  a  newly-born  babe,  wherein  the 
writer  upbraids  the  father  for  having  forfeited  the 
place  in  the  world  which  he  received  at  his  birth,  so 
that  he  could  not  transmit  it  to  the  child  for  whose 
existence  he  was  responsible." 

"  It  can  be  made  to  work  into  the  proof  effectively," 
remarked  Mr.  Stanton. 

"Here  is  a  sheet  of  paper,"  he  went  on,  "upon 
which  was  begun  a  statement,  in  which  evidently  the 
writer  proposes  to  give  the  essential  particulars  of  his 
life.  It  begins  : 

" '  I  propose,  while  strength  is  yet  permitted  me,  to  set 
down  the  important  facts  and  events  of  my  life.  My 
days  are  numbered  upon  this  earth.  I  am  convinced 
that  I  shall  soon  follow  in  the  way  of  my  wife,  await 
ing  me,  who  is  in  Heaven,  where  so  good  a  woman 
must  be.'" 


MRS.   STANTON'S  INTRIGUE.  213 

Dick  was  struck  by  the  resemblance  of  this  sentence. 
to  one  used  by  the  old  man  Pierson,  in  his  conver 
sation  with  him,  applying  it  then  to  Mrs.  Pierson. 

"'  Must  be  [went  on  Bob,  reading].  I  leave  my  only 
child  to  the  tender  mercies  of  a  world  which  for  the 
past  years  has  been  cold  and  heartless  to  me. 

" '  My  name  is  Edmund  Dugdale.  I  am  now  twenty- 
six — I  am  a  son  of  Samuel  Uugdale,  a  man  of  great 
wealth  and  a  merchant  of  London.  I  have  named 
my  child  after  him,  though  I  have  been  discarded  by 
him  since  I  crowned  my  follies  in  his  eyes  by  marry 
ing  a  public  dancer.  I  had  given  myself  up  to  the 
frivolities  and  gayeties  of  the  world,  refusing  to  ac 
knowledge  the  traditions  of  my  house,  which,  if  fol 
lowed,  would  have  led  me  into  the  counting-room  of 
Samuel  Dugdale  &  Son  and  into  a  commercial  career. 
But  these  my  father  forgave,  believing  that  in  time  I 
would  tire  of  them  and  devote  myself  to  business. 
When,  however,  I  married  my  poor 

"  Here,"  said  Bob,  "  the  manuscript  stops  suddenly, 
an  interruption  having  occurred,  for  the  sheet  is  not 
wholly  covered.  I  have  also,  and  finally,  this  begin 
ning  of  a  letter,  undated  : 

'* '  My  dear  Father :  In  the  agony  of  distress,  weep 
ing  over  the  body  of  my  wife,  starved  before  my  eyes 
without  my  ability  to  avert  it,  clasping  my  offspring 
in  my  arms,  your  grandson,  I  have  determined  to 
make  one  more  appeal  to  you  ;  not  in  my  own 
behalf,  for  I  care  not  now  how  soon  death  may  over 
take  me,  but  for  the  sake  of  this  dear  motherless 
child,  innocent  of  any  wrong  toward  you.' 

"And  here  again,"  said  Bob,  "this  ends  abruptly." 

"  If   the    handwriting    of   these  scraps,"   said    Mr. 

Stanton,  "  were  to  be  compared  with  that  known  to  be 


2 1 4  THE  D  UGDA  LE  MILL  TONS. 

Edmund  Dugdale's,  it  would  be  strong  proof  indeed. 
You  have  some  in  your  possession,  I  believe,  Hetlow." 

Bob  with  this  looked  up  keenly  at  Mr.  Hetlow  and, 
as  Dick  thought,  with  a  frightened  expression  on  his 
face,  but  only  for  an  instant. 

"  I  have  such  letters,"  replied  Mr.  Hetlow,  looking 
at  one  of  the  scraps,  "  and,  as  I  recollect  the  writing, 
this  seems  to  be  the  same." 

"  Now  to  close,"  continued  Bob. 

"I  have  Mr.  Pierson's  statement  that  he  received 
me  from  the  hands  of  James  Powers  and  his  wife, 
both  dead  I  understand,  who  said  that  I  was  the 
child  of  a  lodger  who  had  died  in  his  house,  named 
Dugdale.  When  I  have  added  that,  on  Saturday  last, 
a  man  named  Ransom  came  to  me  offering,  for  a  con 
sideration,  to  take  me  to  a  man  who  could  give  me 
certain  facts,  which  I  saw  at  once  would  substantiate 
Mr.  Pierson's  statement,  I  have  submitted  all  the 
proof  at  present  in  my  possession." 

All  were  silent  for  some  time.  Finally  Mr.  Hetlow 
said  : 

"  It  seems  to  me  to  be  conclusive." 

"  No,"  remarked  Mr.  Stanton,  "  it  is  not  conclusive. 
It  is  not  weak,  however,  and  is  capable  of  being 
turned  into  strong  proof." 

"  Well,  be  it  strong  or  weak,"  said  Bob,  with  a  half 
laugh,  as  he  gathered  the  papers  together  and  made 
them  into  a  little  package,  "  it  is  all  I  have,  though 
Mr.  Pierson  says  he  is  certain  there  were  other  papers, 
but  he  has  failed  to  find  them  as  yet." 

Then  turning  to  Mr  Hetlow,  he  said  : 

"  Shall  I  leave  them  with  you  ?" 

As  he  asked  this  question  Dick,  closely  observant, 
thought  he  perceived  an  eagerness,  almost  anxiety, 
for  the  answer. 

"  No,  no,"  quickly  responded  Mr.  Hetlow,  "  they 
are  far  too  important  to  you  to  permit  them  to  go 
out  of  your  hands.  I  thank  you  for  the  opportunity 
of  permitting  me  to  see  them." 


MRS.  STAN  TON'S  INTRIGUE.  215 

Again  Dick  was  certain  he  saw  an  expression  of 
relief  flit  over  Harold  Pierson's  face  at  this  answer, 
but  he  said  : 

"I  should  not  have  feared  to  trust  them  to  the 
keeping  of  Mr.  Hetlow." 

Then  he  added  quickly,  as  he  bowed  courteously  to 
Mr.  Hetlow  : 

"  If  you  will  permit  me,  I  will  withdraw  and  seek 
the  ladies.  You  will  of  course  wish  to  discuss  these 
papers." 

He  was  gone  before  a  protest  could  be  uttered. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow,  as  the  door  closed  on 
Bob,  to  Mr.  Stanton,  "  what  do  you  think  of  this  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  "  promptly  answered  the  lawyer. 
"I  want  time  to  think  it  over.  It  looks  right;  indeed 
it  looks  strong.  On  the  face  of  it,  I  would  say  there 
was  a  reasonable  presumption,  amounting  to  a  moral 
conviction,  that  Harold  Pierson  is  young  Dugdale." 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  Mr.  Hetlow,  in  a  tone  of 
profound  confidence. 

"  But  it  is  not  yet  legal  proof.  However,  I  do  not 
understand  that  he  puts  it  before  us  as  such.  There 
have  been  such  things  as  doctored  documents — 
forged  papers." 

"  Oh,"  said  the  merchant,  "  it  is  the  habit,  if  not  the 
practice,  of  you  lawyers  to  be  suspicious  over  every 
thing." 

"  Not  a  bad  failing,"  replied  Mr.  Stanton  coolly. 
"  The  habit  has  prevented  the  consummation  of  many 
a  fraud.  Now,  Hetlow,  don't  jump  to  a  conclusion  so 
hastily.  It  is  not  yet  time  to  give  up  Bessie's  claims. 
If  you  will  take  my  advice,  you  will  stop  right  here. 
File  your  claim,  so  as  to  preserve  your  status,  in  any 
proceedings  that  may  be  brought  on  behalf  of  this 
young  man,  and  force  him  into  action.  Let  it  be 
dealt  with  in  England.  Stop  where  you  are.  You 
have  done  your  whole  duty.  Let  him  do  the  fighting." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  are  not  convinced?" 
Mr,  Hetlow  asked  indignantly. 


sao  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"  If  I  had  not  heard  what  Mason  learned  on  Mon 
day,  perhaps  I  might  have  been,"  calmly  replied  the 
lawyer.  "  Notwithstanding  Pierson's  explanation  of 
it,  I  am  not  yet  satisfied,  and  still  distrust.  You 
must  stand  upon  your  rights,  defending  them  until  the 
last." 

The  three  rose  and  went  to  the  drawing-room, 
where  they  found  Wallis  and  Bessie  at  the  piano  in  the 
music-room,  and  Harold  Pierson  engaged  in  conversa 
tion  with  Mrs.  Stanton. 

At  once  Dick  noticed  that  Mrs.  Stanton's  face  was 
flushed  and  that  she  seemed  to  be  the  prey  to  strong 
emotions,  and  that  Bob  looked  troubled  and  anx 
ious. 

Bob  indeed  had  reason  to  be  troubled.  He  had 
obtained  a  fact  from  Mrs.  Stanton  which  almost  threw 
him  into  a  panic. 

Mrs.  Stanton,  in  pursuing  her  delusion  that  her 
husband  was  unfaithful,  had  persuaded  herself 
that  Mason's  frequent  visits  were  solely  due  to 
an  effort  to  shield  her  husband.  She  had  there 
fore  conceived  a  great  dislike  for  him.  And  be 
cause  she  had  frequently  heard  Dick  express  his  dis 
trust  of  Harold  Pierson,  she  had  perversely  taken  a 
fancy  to  the  young  claimant.  By  an  illogical  process 
of  reasoning  she  had  come  to  believe  that,  in  the  en 
deavor  to  shield  her  husband,  the  three — Dick,  Mr. 
Hetlow,  and  Mr.  Stanton — were  sacrificing  Harold  Pier- 
son  and  were  engaged  in  an  intrigue  to  deprive  him  of 
his  inheritance.  Having  reached  this  conclusion,  it 
was  an  easy  step  to  the  other,  that  her  interests  were 
bound  up  with  those  of  Harold,  and  thus  was  to  be  ex 
plained  why  she  had,  in  opposition  to  all  about  her, 
advocated  Harold's  claim. 

When  therefore  the  opportunity  presented  itself  she 
opened  her  conversation  with  Harold  Pierson,  by 
offering  him  her  friendship  and  sympathy.  As  a 
matter  of  course,  Bob  only  too  warmly  accepted  it. 


MRS.  STANTOX'S  INTRIGUE.  2 1? 

He  felt  that  Mr.  Hetlow  was  inclined  to  accept  him 
for  what  he  represented  himself  to  be  ;  that  Wallis 
and  Bessie  regarded  him  with  an  indifference  that  was 
almost  void  of  interest,  a  fact  which  puzzled  him  so 
far  as  Bessie  was  concerned,  since  she  had  so  much 
to  lose  by  his  success,  and  that  Mr.  Stanton  and  Dick 
looked  upon  him  with  distrust  and  suspicion.  There 
fore  to  have  one  of  the  group,  even  if  her  influence 
upon  the  situation  must  be  slight,  his  friend  was  an 
opportunity  not  to  be  lost. 

Finding  that  her  proffer  of  friendship  was  eagerly 
accepted  Mrs.  Stanton  proceeded  to  confidences.  She 
related  her  reason  for  belief  in  her  husband's  in 
fidelity,  dilating  upon  her  dreams  and  the  cards  which 
had  confirmed  her  belief,  and  closing  with  the  state 
ment  that  she  was  a  miserable  and  wronged  woman. 
Bob  thought  at  first  Mrs.  Stanton  was  not  altogether 
sound  in  her  mind,  although  he  listened  attentively 
aud  respectfully.  When,  however,  she  passed  on  to 
her  description  of  the  way  Mason  had  conspired  with 
her  husband,  drawing  in  Mr.  Hetlow,  to  cloak  his 
wrong-doings,  under  the  specious  device  of  a  search 
for  the  Dugdale  heir,  he  began  to  believe  that  there 
was  some  purpose  in  what  she  was  saying.  When  the 
blonde  woman  in  a  red  shawl  made  her  appearance, 
and  he  began  to  realize  that  a  factor  in  his  conspiracy 
was  presented,  he  was  no  longer  indolently  interested, 
but  somewhat  alarmed,  for  it  was  an  element  not  con 
sidered  or  known  in  their  intrigue.  But  when  the 
event  of  the  afternoon  was  recited,  and  the  blonde 
woman  in  a  red  shawl  was  discovered  to  be  a  daughter 
of  James  Powers,  that  she  had  brought  a  tin  box,  in 
which  was  the  evidence  of  the  adoption  of  Dugdale's 
child  and  of  the  person  to  whom  it  was  given,  but 
which  Mrs.  Stanton  firmly  believed  contained  the  evi 
dence  of  her  husband's  moral  turpitude,  Bob  was 
panicstricken,  and  his  first  impulse  was  to  fly  from 
the  house  and  put  himself  in  a  place  of  safety. 


218  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Mrs.  Stanton  had  told  this  with  a  great  deal  of  heat 
and  excitement.  For  the  first  time  since  she  had 
entertained  the  idea  of  her  husband's  unfaithfulness, 
she  had  found  someone  who  apparently  believed  her 
story.  Having  submitted  her  facts,  Mrs.  Stanton  pro 
ceeded  to  an  argument  sustaining  her  belief.  And 
while  she  talked  Bob  was  thinking  deeply.  Learning 
that  this  box  was  still  in  her  possession,  and  had  not 
been  seen  by  either  Dick  or  Mr.  Stanton,  he  grew 
more  composed  and  could  think  more  calmly.  He 
appreciated  the  danger  to  its  fullest  extent.  Should 
this  box  reveal  the  facts — the  truth — not  only  would 
the  enterprise  they  had  engaged  upon  fail,  but  the 
four  of  them  would  be  liable  to  arrest  and  prosecution. 
The  situation  was  critical  and  called  for  prompt 
action.  But  what  action  ?  He  had  neither  time  nor 
opportunity  to  consult.  What  was  to  be  done  must 
be  done  at  once.  With  more  vigorous  mental  action 
than  any  of  his  associates  would  have  credited  him 
with,  he  formulated  his  plan  and  proceeded  to  carry 
it  out. 

"You  are  evidently  entirely  right,"  he  said.  "The 
proof  against  your  husband  is  strong,  and  the  con 
tents  of  that  box  undoubtedly  complete  it  over 
whelmingly.  You  must  see  that  neither  Mr.  Stanton, 
Mr.  Mason,  nor  Mr.  Hetlow,  are  permitted  to  see  the 
contents  of  that  box,  or  they  will  seize  the  papers  and 
make  away  with  them,  when  you  will  have  lost  your  op 
portunity  to  confound  your  husband.  Of  course  you 
know  my  position.  I  think,  myself,  that  they  are  not 
disposed  to  yield  me  my  right  in  this  matter  of  the 
succession  to  the  Dugdale  estates.  Your  husband, 
only  this  evening,  intimated  to  me  that  my  proofs 
were  not  strong  legally.  You  and  I  are  involved  in 
the  one  thing  by  being  made  the  victims  of  a  con 
spiracy. 

"  That  is  what  I  said  at  once,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Stanton. 


MRS.  STAN  TON'S  INTRIGUE.  219 

"  It  is  very  clear,"  continued  Bob  eagerly.  "  They 
desire  to  shield  Mr.  Stanton.  He  means  to  face  his 
deceit  out  with  you.  Mr.  Hetlow  naturally  does  not 
want  me  to  prove  my  identity,  while  Mason  is  in 
love  with  Miss  Hetlow  and  does  not  want  the  prop 
erty  to  pass  away  from  her.  They  make  common 
cause  together,  and  the  result  is  that  we  are  the 
victims.  It  is,  therefore,  necessary  for  us  to  join 
hands  in  defense  of  our  respective  rights.  There 
may  be  papers  in  that  box  that  will  throw  light  npon 
my  case." 

"That  is  why  I  tell  you,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Stanton. 

"  Then  keep  that  box  secure  until  you  can  let  me 
have  it.  When  I  can  take  it  I  will  give  it  to  my  law 
yer,  who  will  be  able  to  understand  the  papers  better 
than  you  or  I  can." 

Mrs.  Stanton,  however,  shrank  from  this  proposi 
tion,  but  Bob  continued  to  skillfully  play  upon  her 
delusion,  until  she  finally  yielded  and  promised  to 
deliver  it  to  him  in  some  way. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  give  it  to  you  unob 
served,"  she  said. 

"  It  will  never  do  for  you  to  hand  it  to  me,"  replied 
Bob.  "  If  that  were  seen  suspicion  would  be  excited 
at  once." 

"  But  how  can  you  get  it  ? "  she  asked. 

"  It  must  be  stolen  from  you,"  said  Bob,  after  some 
reflection, "so  that  there  will  be  no  responsibility  rest 
ing  upon  you." 

"  But  how  ?  "  she  inquired  eagerly. 

"  Can  you  not  place  it  where  it  can  be  taken  to 
night?"  he  asked. 

To  the  desire,  ardent  and  real  if  mistaken,  to  ob 
tain  proof  of  her  husband's  infidelity,  was  now  added 
all  the  fascination  of  the  mystery  and  the  intrigue 
she  had  entered  upon.  She  thought  awhile  and 
then  said  : 

"  I  have  concealer!  the  box   imong  a  number  of 


220  THE  DUGDALE  MILLION'S. 

others,  into  which  my  husband  does  not  look  in  these 
days.  I  could  not  tell  you  how  you  would  know  it." 

"  But  can  you  not  put  it  in  a  place  where  it  could 
be  easily  got  ?"  urged  Bob. 

The  foolish  woman  thought  awhile  and  then  said  : 

"  I  will  place  it  on  the  table  next  to  the  window  of 
the  library  which  looks  out  upon  the  veranda,  which 
is  on  the  river  side  of  the  house.  You  can  raise  the 
window,  which  I  will  leave  unfastened,  and  take  it 
from  the  table." 

"But  which  room  is  the  library?"  asked  Bob. 
"  You  know  I  have  never  been  in  your  house." 

"  It  is  the  room  on  the  river  side  of  the  house  on 
the  corner  nearest  Mr.  Hetlow's  house." 

"  That  will  do  well.     Leave  it  all  to  me." 

It  was  at  this  point  that  the  three  who  had  been 
consulting  in  the  library  appeared,  putting  an  end  to 
further  conversation  between  Mrs.  Stanton  and  Bob. 

Immediately  thereafter  the  Springhill  people  took 
their  leave.  Somewhat  to  their  astonishment  Bob 
asked  to  be  permitted  to  walk  with  them,  saying  that 
he  would  return  at  once.  There  was  no  opposition, 
as  there  could  not  be  ;  and  Bob  walked  with  Dick  and 
Wallis. 

They  had  hardly  reached  the  confines  of  the  Het- 
low  grounds,  when  Bob  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  What 
a  lovely  night !  and  immediately  his  voice,  in  pure 
strong  baritone,  rolled  out  with  the  air  of  "  Oh,  lovely 
night !  "  He  sang  but  a  stave  or  two,  when  he  began 
to  talk  rapidly  as  to  the  pleasure  he  took  in  country 
life  and  the  joy  he  would  experience  could  he  live  in 
such  a  place. 

As  the  party  reached  the  fence  which  surrounded 
the  grounds  in  which  Mr.  Stanton's  house  was,  he 
bade  them  good-night  and  abruptly  left,  going  back 
over  the  path  they  had  come. 

His  purpose  in  his  sudden  outburst  of  song  was 
made  apparent  when  he  approached  the  Hetlow 


MKS.   STANTON'S  INTRIGUE.  221 

grounds.  Ransom  rose  up  out  of  the  ground  appar 
ently. 

"  I  heard  you  sing,  and  took  it  for  a  call  for  me," 
he  said. 

"You're  right.  The  devil  is  to  pay,"  replied  Bob. 
*'  Listen  close  and  don't  talk,  for  I  must  get  back  be 
fore  suspicion  is  aroused." 

Then,  briefly,  he  told  Ransom  what  he  had  learned 
from  Mrs.  Stanton  as  to  the  tin  box,  and  the  ar 
rangement  he  had  made  to  secure  it. 

Ranson  was  as  badly  frightened  as  Bob  had  been. 

"  But  will  she  stick  ?  "  he  asked. 

"It  was  the  best  I  could  do,"  replied  Bob.  "We 
must  take  the  chance.  You  must  get  the  box  to 
night." 

"  I'll  get -it  if  it  is  there  to  get."  said  Ransom. 

"We  must,  or  we  are  done,"  said  Bob,  "and  let 
me  know  if  you've  got  it,  for  if  you  haven't  I  must 
see  the  old  woman  again." 

"  If  a  man,  no  matter  who,  stands  before  you  to 
morrow  morning,  the  first  time  you  show  your  head 
©ut  of  doors,  and  tears  a  large  piece  of  paper  up  and 
throws  the  pieces  into  the  air,  that  means  I've  got  it." 

Ransom  slunk  away  into  the  darkness,  and  Bob 
went  back  into  the  house  of  "  The  Larches." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A    BURGLARY. 

ON  returning  to  Spring-hill  Mr.  Stanton,  to  his 
wife's  infinite  distress,  led  Dick  into  the  library.  As 
Wallis  immediately  retired  to  her  own  room  the  poor 
woman  was  given  an  opportunity  to  think  over  the 
enterprise  she  had  engaged  upon,  alone. 

"Mason,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  as  he  closed  the  door 
after  them,  "  in  looking  over  some  of  my  old  papers 
with  a  view  of  destroying  those  of  no  value,  I  came 
across  some  papers  belonging  to  the  estate  of  Thomas 
Mason — your  uncle.  I  cannot  tell  how  they  got 
among  my  private  papers,  I  suppose  they  did  when  I 
was  settling  it.  I  recently  had  my  boxes  removed 
from  the  office  to  this  place.  There  they  are,  ten  of 
them,"  pointing  to  a  shelf,  on  which  a  number  of  tin 
boxes  were  ranged  together.  "  I  am  weeding  out  the 
unimportant  papers.  I  don't  think  they  are  of  any 
value — I  mean  those  belonging  to  the  Mason  estate — 
but  you  should  look  at  them." 

With  this  he  rose  from  his  chair  and,  going  to  the 
shelf,  took  down  one  of  the  boxes,  bringing  it  to  the 
table.  On  opening  it,  however,  he  said  : 

"  This  is  not  the  one.  Someone  has  been  interfer 
ing  with  these  boxes.  The  girls  have  had  a  dusting 
fit,  I  suppose,  and  upset  things.'' 

He  took  down  another  and  indeed  others,  until  he 
had  six  upon  the  table,  without  rinding  the  one  he  was 
looking  for,  until  at  last  he  took  down  one  to  find  it 
was  locked, 

"  This  is  locked,"  he  said,  in  surprise.  "Which  one 
h  this?  I  don't  remember  it." 


A  BURGLARY.  223 

It  was  in  fact  the  Jenkins  box,  which  Mrs.  Stanton 
thought  she  had  so  safely  hidden.  There  would  have 
been  much  trembling  among  certain  people  if  they 
could  have  known  that,  at  that  moment,  Mr.  Stanton 
and  Dick  had  the  means  within  their  own  hands  of 
definitely  determining  who  was  the  real  Dugdale  heir. 

But  saying  that  it  was  not  the  one  he  was  looking 
for,  he  took  down  another.  Thus  he  had  seven  boxes 
on  the  table,  and  the  seventh  proved  to  be  the  one  he 
wanted.  ' 

He  handed  the  papers  to  Dick,  who  saw  by  the 
most  cursory  examination  that  they  were  of  no  value 
whatever. 

"  I  will  destroy  them,"  he  said. 

"  Put  them  back  in  the  box,"  said  Mr.  Stanton, 
"and  when  I  come  to  them  in  my  weeding-out  process 
I  will  get  rid  of  them." 

He  lifted  the  box,  as  Dick  did  as  he  was  bid,  with 
the  view  of  putting  the  box  back,  but  Dick  promptly 
interfered,  and  taking  the  box  from  his  hand  said  : 

"Sit  down,     i  \vill  put  the  boxes  back." 

He  had  restored  two  to  their  places,  when  Mr. 
Stanton,  going  over  to  the  shelf,  took  down  the  Jenkins 
box  and,  taking  a  bunch  of  keys  from  his  pocket,  tried 
to  find  a  key  that  would  unlock  it. 

"  Strange,"  he  muttered.  "  I  have  no  key  that  fits 
it.  I  can't  imagine  what  box  this  is." 

While  he  was  thus  engaged  Dick  had  put  back 
three  more.  Mr.  Stanton  laid  the  box  down  on  the 
table  and  Dick  picked  it  up  to  replace  it. 

"Leave  the  others,"  said  Mr.  Stanton. 

Misunderstanding  his  remark,  Dick  laid  the  box 
down  again  on  a  part  of  the  table  remote  from  the 
others. 

The  two  talked  a  little  while  longer  and  then  went 
to  bed,  leaving  the  three  boxes  on  the  table. 

In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Stanton,  having  had  ample 
time  to  reflect,  began  to  shrink  from  the  dishonorable 


224  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

intrigue  into  which  she  had  been  led  by  Harold  Pier- 
son.  And  the  morr  she  pondered  upon  the  scheme 
the  more  detestable  it  appeared  to  her.  Finally,  with 
a  firm  determination,  she  resolved  to  go  no  further  in 
the  matter.  Could  she  have  communicated  with 
Harold  Pierson  she  would  have  done  so,  but  the 
hour  was  too  late  and  so  she  went  to  bed,  proposing 
to  let  Bob  find  out  that  she  had  retired  from  the 
scheme  by  finding  that  the  window  had  not  been  pre 
pared  for  him  as  she  had  promised,  and  expecting  to 
explain  to  him,  upon  the  first  opportunity,  her  reasons 
for  abandoning  the  scheme,  even  though  it  promised 
to  give  her  proofs  of  her  husband's  infidelity. 

There  were  occurrences  during  the  night,  however, 
which  threw  her  plans  into  confusion.  Early  the 
next  morning  she  was  awakened  from  her  sleep  by 
excited  poundings  on  the  door.  She  opened  it  to  be 
informed  that  during  the  night  the  house  had  been 
broken  into. 

With  a  consciousness  of  guilt  and  trembling  with 
excitement,  she  hastily  threw  on  a  dressing-robe  and 
descended  the  stairs.  She  knew  that  the  event  was 
the  outcome  of  her  talk  with  Harold  Pierson,  and 
though  she  had  not  been  told  that  it  was  in  the 
library  that  the  attempt  had  been  made,  she  went 
directly  to  that  apartment.  The  window  was  open,  the 
shutters  thrown  back,  and  the  cool  morning  air  was 
pouring  through  the  room.  On  the  table  she  saw  the 
Jenkins  box.  With  a  devout  sense  of  thankfulness 
she  recognized  it  and,  hardly  knowing  why,  she  hast 
ily  caught  it  up  and  placed  it  in  an  unused  drawer, 
drawing  some  papers  over  it.  She  had  barely  ac 
complished  this  when  Mr.  Stanton  entered  the  room. 

He  was  too  intent  upon  the  burglary  to  notice  his 
wife's  agitation,  and  if  he  had,  he  would  probably  have 
attributed  it  to  the  event  itself.  He  went  over  to  the 
window  and  discovered  that  the  shutters  had  been 


A  BURGLARY,  2*£ 

pried  off.  Drawing  down  the  sash  he  saw  a  hole  had 
been  cut  through  one  of  the  panes  by  which  an  arm 
could  be  thrust  through  and  the  catch  slipped  back. 

"It  is  burglary,  sure  enough!"  he  exclaimed. 
M  What  has  been  stolen  ?" 

Aroused  by  the  confusion  in  the  house  Dick  and 
Wallis  came  from  their  rooms,  hastily  dressed. 
A  systematic  search  was  entered  upon.  Then  they 
began  to  wonder.  Not  an  article  was  missing.  The 
plate  was  in  its  place  in  the  dining-room  ;  the  safe  in 
the  library  had  not  been  tampered  with  ;  and  opening 
it,  its  contents  were  found  to  be  secure.  There  was  no 
indication  that  the  burglar  had  gone  beyond  the  library. 
They  were  stupefied — all  but  Mrs.  Stanton  who,  if  she 
were  minded,  could  have  explained.  But  she  main 
tained  a  guilty  silence.  They  gathered  in  the  library 
again  after  the  examination  of  the  house. 

"  A  most  singular  burglary,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  "  I 
do  not  understand  it.  Not  a  single  article  taken." 

Dick  was  looking  at  the  table. 

"  Has  anything  been  removed  from  this  room  since 
the  discovery  that  the  house  had  been  entered  was 
made  ?"  he  asked  suddenly. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Mr.  Stanton  promptly. 

"  Then,"  said  Dick,  "  the  boxes  left  on  the  table 
last  night  were  stolen." 

Mr.  Stanton  counted  the  boxes  on  the  shelf.  There 
were  eight  of  them. 

"True,"  he  said.     "Two  of  them  are  missing." 

Mrs.  Stanton  was  conscience-stricken,  but  silent. 
This  then  was  what  her  foolish  conduct  had  resulted 
in.  Two  boxes  containing  her  husband's  private 
papers  had  been  taken  away.  Of  course  it  was  a  mis 
take — Harold  Pierson  did  not  want  those.  The  box 
he  did  want  was  within  his  reach,  but  he  had  missed 
it.  She  determined  that  she  would  compel  him  to  re 
turn  them. 


3  a6  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

In  the  meantime  the  others  were  speculating  as  to 
what  was  the  meaning  of  the  desire  to  take  these 
boxes. 

"  I  presume,"  said  Mr.  Stanton  at  length,  "  some 
evil  fellows  were  lurking  about  when  we  were 
handling  these  boxes  last  night,  Mason,  and 
saw  us.  Supposing  them  to  contain  valuables,  they 
have  broken  into  the  house  to  get  them.  Well,  they 
will  make  nothing  by  it.  The  sole  result  will  be  to 
incommode  me." 

Having  reached  this  result,  they  separated  to  pre 
pare  for  breakfast. 

With  the  breakfast  hour  came  the  mail.  There  was 
a  letter  for  Dick,  from  which  as  he  opened  it  dropped 
a  small  key.  The  letter  was  from  Mrs.  Jenkins  and 
informed  him  that  she  had  forgotten  to  give  the  key 
of  the  tin  box,  which  she  had  left  with  Mrs.  Stanton,  to 
the  lady,  a  fact  she  discovered  on  arriving  in  New 
York,  and  had  therefore  mailed  it  to  him. 

Dick,  much  surprised,  looked  up  from  his  letter  and 
addressed  Mrs.  Stanton  : 

"  Was  Mrs.  Jenkins  here  yesterday  ?  " 

The  suddenness  of  the  question,  which  seemed  to 
reveal  her  wrong-doing,  utterly  confounded  the  lady. 
Her  face  flushed,  and  she  trembled  visibly. 

Wallis,  whose  attention  was  caught  by  the  question 
Dick  had  put,  was  astonished  at  the  demeanor  of  her 
aunt,  who  after  several  efforts  finally  stammered  out : 

"  Why,  yes — yesterday  afternoon.  I  forgot  to  tell 
you  about  it." 

"  Did  she  leave  a  box,  of  which  this  is  the  key,  with 
you  ? " 

He  held  up  the  key  for  her  to  look  at. 

By  a  violent  effort  Mrs.  Stanton  took  possession  of 
herself,  realizing  that  the  fact  of  Mrs.  Jenkins'  visit 
and  her  delivery  of  the  box  was  now  known,  and,  as 
well,  that  she  was  in  a  most  unpleasant  predicament. 


A  BURGLAR  Y.  22? 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  as  promptly  as  she  could.  "  She 
did  leave  a  box  and  I  put  it  on  the  library  table,  for 
getting  all  about  it." 

She  was  not  reassured  by  finding  Wallis's  dark  eyes 
bent  upon  her  keenly,  and,  she  thought,  suspiciously. 

Dick  leaped  to  a  sudden  conclusion,  that  took  such 
fast  hold  of  him  that  he  failed  to  notice  Mrs.  Stanton's 
singularity  of  manner, 

"Do  you  take  this  in,  sir?"  he  asked,  addressing 
Mr.  Stanton,  who  had  been  apparently  engrossed  in 
his  own  thoughts. 

Mr.  Stanton  looked  upon  Dick  inquiringly. 

"  I  fancy  we  have  an  explanation  of  the  burglary  of 
last  night,"  continued  Dick,  unmindful  of  the  percept 
ible  start  of  Mrs.  Stanton,  which  however  was  care 
fully  noted  by  Wallis.  "It  seems  that  Mrs.  Jenkins 
came  here  with  that  tin  box  she  promised  to  bring 
and  left  it  with  Mrs.  Stanton,  who  says  she  received 
it  and,  carrying  it  to  the  library,  placed  it  on  the 
table." 

Mr.  Stanton  was  aroused.  He  addressed  his  wife 
sternly  : 

"  What !  You  forgot  to  mention  it  ?  That  was  ex 
ceedingly  thoughtless — indeed  it  was  reprehensible— 
so  important  a  matter  as  that." 

Mrs.  Stanton  quailed  before  the  harsh  and  stern 
looks  of  her  husband. 

"  Mrs.  Jenkins  came  in  just  after  you  and  Mr. 
Mason  had  gone  into  the  village,"  replied  Mrs.  Stan- 
ton  in  an  endeavor  to  defend  herself. 

"  Where  were  you,  Wallis,  that  you  should  have  for 
gotten  it  too  ? "  asked  Mr.  Stanton  of  his  niece. 

"  I  knew  nothing  of  any  box  until  now,"  returned 
Wallis.  "  When  you  drove  off  with  Mr.  Mason,  I  went 
over  to  see  Bessie." 

"  Mason,"  said  the  old  lawyer,  turning  to  Dick, 
who  began  to  regret  he  had  been  so  precipitate,  since 


228  THE  DUGDALE   MILLIONS. 

he  had  brought  reproof  on  Mrs.  Stanton,  "  Masoa 
that  box  I  found  locked  must  have  been  the  one.  But 
it  was  on  the  shelf." 

"  I  left  it  on  the  table,"  said  Mrs.  Stanton,  very  red 
of  face. 

"  It  certainly  was  on  the  shelf  when  I  saw  it  first," 
continued  Mr.  Stanton.  "  I  think,  wife,  you  must  have 
put  it  there,  without  being  conscious  of  your  act. 
But,  Mason,  why  do  you  say  it  explains  the  bur 
glary?" 

"  That  was  a  sudden  and  thoughtless  conclusion," 
replied  Dick.  "  When  I'm  called  upon  for  argument 
to  sustain  it,  I  find  myself  in  difficulty.  But  here  are 
several  facts.  A  burglary  was  committed.  The  house 
maid,  under  your  questioning,  distinctly  recollects 
closing  the  shutters  and  fastening  the  sashes  last  night. 
This  morning  the  windows  show  a  burglarious  entrance. 
A  searching  examination  of  the  house  shows  no  pur 
pose  of  robbing  generally,  since  articles  of  value,  easy 
of  reach,  were  not  touched.  Hence  we  may  conclude 
that  behind  the  entrance  was  a  specific  purpose.  But, 
what  ?  That  question  brings  me  to  my  conclusion. 
If  you  will  recollect  though  you  took  down  eight 
boxes,  five  were  replaced  and  three  left  on  the  table. 
These  three  boxes  have  disappeared.  And  these 
boxes  were  the  specific  purpose  of  the  burglary." 

"  There  were  ten  of  my  boxes  on  the  shelf.  This  one 
brought  by  Mrs.  Jenkins  would  make  eleven,"  inter 
rupted  Mr.  Stanton,  as  he  hurried  out  of  the  room. 
He  was  back  again  in  a  moment. 

"  There  are  but  eight  left,"  he  said,  as  he  returned. 
"  So  three  were  taken." 

"Now,  sir,'  continued  Dick,  "let  us  assume  for  the 
sake  of  :ny  argument,  that  there  is  a  relation  between 
the  disappearance  of  the  locked  box  brought  by  Mrs. 
Jenkins,  which  is  among  the  three,  and  the  claim  of 
Harold  Pierson  to  the  Dugdale  estate." 


A  BURGLARY.  2*9 

Both  Mr.  Stanton  and  Wallis  were  startled  by  the 
boldness  of  the  proposition.  Mrs.  Stanton,  however, 
very  red  of  face  and  in  an  alarmed  tone,  cried  out  : 

"  I  do  not  know  why  you  should  do  that." 

Her  husband  and  her  niece,  surprised  at  her  tone 
and  manner,  looked  at  her  keenly  and  curiously. 

"  Merely  as  a  starting-point,  Mrs.  Stanton,"  said 
Dick,  bowing  deferentially  to  her,  and  continued : 
"  There  are  certain  facts  of  which  we  have  been 
cognizant  since  the  beginning  of  our  search.  When 
I  called  on  Mrs.  Tomlinson  1  learned  that  a  middle- 
aged  man  had  seen  her  upon  precisely  the  same 
errand,  before  I  got  to  her,  while  if  he  did  not  repre 
sent  his  name  to  be  Mason,  he  at  least  left  her  under 
the  impression  that  he  was  the  Mason  upon  whose 
behalf  Barber  had  seen  her  the  previous  day.  Again, 
when  we  employ  detectives  to  trace  Powers,  we  are  in« 
formed  that  they  were  preceded  in  every  place  they 
went  by  a  man  making  precisely  the  same  inquiries. 
The  description  of  this  man  coincides  with  the  descrip 
tion  of  the  man  calling  upon  Mrs.  Tomlinson." 

"  I  recollect,"  interjected  Mr.  Stanton. 

"  There  must  have  been  a  purpose  in  all  this,"  Dick 
went  on,  "  and  the  purpose  must  have  been  to  reach 
the  end  we  were  seeking.  Now,  grant  me  a  single 
supposition.  Suppose  that  having  learned  of  the  ex 
istence  of  a  daughter  of  James  Powers,  as  we  did,  and 
that  there  was  in  her  possession  a  tin  box,  the  con 
tents  of  which  might  reveal  the  truth  as  to  the  adoption 
of  Edmund  Dugdale's  child,  as  we  did,  is  it  a  violent 
assumption  that  this  person,  tracing  the  box  to  this 
house,  adopted  the  felonious  means  of  burglary  to 
secure  its  possession  ?  " 

"  It  is  all  nonsense,"  suddenly  ejaculated  Mrs. 
Stanton. 

"  Why,  auntie  !  "  cried  Wallis,  and  not  without  pur 
pose,  "  what  do  you  know  of  it  ?  " 


23°  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Mrs.  Stanton  was  brought  to  a  recognition  of  her 
own  heat  by  the  question.  She  replied  hastily  : 

"  I  know  nothing,  but  the  argument  is  absurd." 

"  Not  by  any  means,"  interposed  Mr.  Stanton. 
"It  is  very  strong  and  plausible,  and  it  only  misses 
being  conclusive." 

"  I  have  not  finished,"  said  Dick.  "  I  connect  Harold 
Pierson  with  this  matter,  by  a  slight  and  perhaps 
weak  thread.  Notwithstanding  the  apparent  frank 
ness  of  his  explanation  as  to  being  found  in  the  com- 
pany  of  Ransom,  I  am  not  satisfied  and  I  cannot  di 
vest  myself  of  the  idea  that,  though  he  pretended  to 
the  contrary,  Ransom  was,  in  fact,  in  collusion  with 
Harold  and  Orton  Pierson  before  he  came  to  me 
in  answer  to  my  advertisement.  Then  there  is  the 
further  fact  that  I  am  almost  certain  that  prior  to 
last  Monday,  I  have  twice  seen  Ransom  about  these 
grounds.  If  I  cannot  present  a  conclusive  argu 
ment,"  he  concluded  with  a  laugh,  "  I  can  build  a 
very  complete  theory." 

"  So  complete  a  theory,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  in  a  tone 
which  showed  how  greatly  impressed  he  was  by  Dick's 
talk,  "  that  it  demands  thorough  investigation,  until 
the  theory  is  confirmed  or  destroyed." 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  reached  such  a  conclusion," 
said  Dick  almost  gratefully.  "  I  will  present  these 
facts  to  Captain  Lawton  to-day." 

"  Not  until  we  have  first  consulted  Mr.  Hetlow," 
said  Stanton. 

Thus  it  was  that  immediately  after  breakfast  the 
two  sought  Mr.  Hetlow.  They  found  Harold  Pier- 
son  preparing  to  depart  in  high  spirits.  A  man  had 
appeared  before  him  throwing  bits  of  paper  into  the 
air. 

Mr.  Hetlow  listened  attentively.  He  discussed 
Dick's  theory  as  more  ingenious  than  probable,  but  on 
Mr.  Stanton's  urgency  he  gave  a  reluctant  consent 
that  the  facts  should  be  presented  to  Captain  Lawton. 


A  BURGLARY.  231 

Dick  could  not  avoid  traveling  to  the  city  in  the  com- 
pany  of  Harold  Pierson,  though  he  tried  not  to  do  so. 
Bob  had  known  of  the  brief  conference  between  Mr. 
Hetlow  and  Mr.  Stanton  and  Dick,  without  knowing 
its  subject,  but  he  surmised  it  had  relation  to  the  box. 
He  was  therefore  persistent  in  clinging  to  Dick  in  the 
hope  that  he  might  elicit  something. 

At  first  Dick  avoided  mention  of  the  theft  of  the 
boxes,  but  the  idea  occurred  to  him  that  he  might 
surprise  Harold  Pierson  into  some  indication  of  a 
knowledge  of  it. 

"  Springhill  was  entered  by  burglars  last  night," 
he  said  abruptly, 

"  By  burglars?"  repeated  Bob  incredulously. 

"The  house  was  broken  into,  the  shutters  being 
pried  open  and  the  glass  cut,  and  certain  tin  boxes,  con 
taining  papers,  stolen,"  he  added. 

Bob  was  now  sincerely  astonished.  His  face  showed 
it.  It  was  genuine  and  unmistakable  ;  this  was  not 
according  to  the  programme.  He  thought  that  Mrs. 
Stanton  had  failed  and  that  Ransom,  finding  that  the 
window  was  not  prepared  as  promised,  had  entered  by 
force  and  carried  off  all  the  boxes  he  could  find. 
Dick  was  misled.  He  thought  Harold  Pierson  had 
no  acquaintance  with  the  act.  He  wondered  if  the 
young  man  could  be  the  dupe  of  other  men,  for  he 
had  great  faith  in  his  theory. 

"  Were  these  boxes  of  value — that  is,  their  con 
tents  ?  "  asked  Bob  innocently. 

"  Two  of  them  were  of  no  value  at  all.  The  third  only 
reached  the  house  yesterday,  and  contained  matters 
which  might  have  gone  to  the  proof  of  the  heirship  to 
the  Dugdale  estates,"  said  Dick,  upon  sudden  im 
pulse  to  test  Bob. 

It  failed,  however,  for  Bob  was  busy  with  another 
thought. 

"The  old  woman  has  squealed,"  he  thought,  "  but 
Ransom  has  got  the  box," 


832  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

As  the  two  parted  at  the  station  in  the  city,  Bob 
said  with  a  laugh: 

"  I  leave  '  The  Larches '  this  morning  without  an 
invitation  to  return." 

Dick  thought  that  Mr.  Hetlow  was  becoming  sus 
picious.  Aloud  he  said : 

"  A  relative  of  the  family  does  not  need  an  invita 
tion  to  visit  at  will." 

The  sneer  accompanying  these  words  was  so  evi 
dent  that  Bob  did  not  fail  to  notice  it  and  marked  id 
for  further  thought 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

PUZZLED    CONSPIRATORS. 

DICK  immediately  called  upon  Captain  Lawton. 
No  sooner  had  he  entered  his  office  than  that  official 
called  out: 

"Ah!  I  have  just  sent  to  your  office.  I  have 
some  information.  Ransom  is  a  man  without  visible 
means  of  support,  yet  seems  to  be  always  in  funds. 
He  is  a  sporting  man.  Nothing  is  known  to  his  dis 
credit  save  that  he  seems  to  have  an  extensive  ac 
quaintance  with  crooked  people.  For  six  months  a 
young  man  named  Bob  Brown  has  been  his  constant 
companion.  Beyond  this  companionship  nothing  is  re 
ported  against  him.  Just  about  the  time  that  Orton 
Pierson's  son  Harold  made  his  appearance  in  Harlem 
after  a  long  absence,  this  young  man  disappeared 
from  the  haunts  of  Ransom  and  his  companionship. 
The  description  of  one  may  be  taken  for  the  descrip 
tion  of  the  other.  There  is  a  point  for  you  to  con 
sider.  I  have  learned  that  Ransom  and  Orton  Pier- 
son  have  been  long  acquainted,  and  many  years  ago 
were  closely  connected.  A  lawyer  of  rather  shadf 
reputation,  named  Moore,  meets  with  the  three  I  have 
named,  at  Orton  Pierson's  house  in  i28th  Street, 
nearly  daily.  I  know  this  man." 

"All  of  this  supports  my  theory,"  said  Dick 
musingly. 

"Your  theory?"  inquired  the  captain. 

"Yes,  my  theory,"  replied  Dick;  "but  before  I  tell 
it,  please  describe  this  man  Moore." 

The  captain  did  so  minutely. 

"It  is  the  same,"  exclaimed  Dick  excitedly.     "Ho 


234  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

is  the  man  who  visited  Mrs.  Tomlinson  and  afterward 
pushed  his  inquiry  in  Newark  for  knowledge  of  James 
Powers.  This  is  growing  warm. " 

He  then  related  to  the  captain  the  story  of  the  bur 
glary  on  Mr.  Stan  tori's  house  the  previous  night,  and 
afterward  explained  his  theory.  The  captain  listened 
attentively.  When  Dick  had  concluded  his  story  he 
said: 

"Then  your  belief  is  that  the  scheme  is  a  fraudulent 
attempt  to  palm  off  the  adopted  son  of  the  elder  Pier- 
son  as  young  Dugdale." 

"Yes;  either  with  or  without  the  knowledge  and 
consent  of  Harold  Pierson." 

"With  his  knowledge,"  exclaimed  the  captain.  "I 
do  not  believe  that  Harold  Pierson  is  the  adopted  son 
of  Orton.  He  is  Bob  Brown  in  my  opinion.  It  is  a 
deep  plot,  which  must  be  closely  looked  into.  Your 
theory  is  excellent  and  I  will  work  on  its  lines." 

While  this  conference  was  going  forward  in  Captain 
Lawton's  office,  another  was  in  progress  at  Orton 
Pierson's  house,  in  an  upper  room. 

Ransom  had  arrived  early  in  the  morning  and  was 
awaiting  Bob's  appearance  impatiently.  He  had  told 
the  story  of  the  previous  night's  experience  to  Moore 
and  Orton  Pierson.  Both  were  well  frightened. 
They  were  not  at  all  reassured  by  Ransom's  emphatic 
statement  that  Bob  was  convinced  that  no  one  but 
Mrs.  Stanton  had  knowledge  of  the  box.  Moore  had 
urged  that  the  Hetlow  people  knew  the  woman  Jen 
kins  and  could  obtain  knowledge  of  its  contents  from 
her.  When  Bob  appeared  he  was  eagerly  plied  with 
questions. 

"You  are  all  off  the  track,"  he  said.  "The  story  is 
serious  enough,  I  can  tell  you,  without  making  it  more 
so.  Mrs.  Stanton  says,  and  I  believe  her,  that  no  one 
knew  that  the  box  had  been  received  at  the  Stanton 
house  but  herself.  She  is  a  jealous  old  fool,  and 
believes  the  box  contains  evidence  by  which  she  can 


PUZZLED  CONSPIRATORS.  235 

convict  her  husband  of  some  intrigue  she  thinks  he 
has  been  engaged  in.  She  says  the  box  belonged 
to  James  Powers  and  that  his  daughter — the  Jenkins 
woman — does  not  understand  the  papers  in  it.  So  far 
as  that  goes  it  is  all  right.  Ransom,"  he  said,  sud 
denly  breaking  off  and  turning  to  that  person,  "how 
many  boxes  did  you  get?" 

"Two." 

"Holy  smoke!  Three  were  taken,  or  were  missing 
this  morning." 

The  two  stared  at  each  other  in  blank  amazement. 
The  others  looked  upon  them  with  frightened  interest. 

"I  took  two,"  at  length  said  Ransom.  "All  I  saw. 
When  I  reached  the  window  I  found  it  tighter  than  a 
drum  and  I  thought,  if  the  old  woman  hadn't  weak 
ened  at  the  end,  she  had  forgotten  the  window  in 
her  flurry.  So  I  went  in  anyhow.  When  I  got  in, 
there  were  two  boxes  on  the  table,  and  I  took  them 
both  to  make  sure,  and  made  off." 

"Well,"  said  Bob,  after  a  moment's  reflection, 
"I'm  afraid  the  old  woman  has  squealed,  and  not  any 
further  than  to  tell  about  the  box.  I  came  down  on 
the  cars  with  Mason.  He  said  three  boxes  had  been 
taken,  two  containing  private  papers  of  Mr.  Stanton 
and  one  papers  going  to  the  proof  of  the  heirship  to 
the  Dugdale  estates — what  the  proof  was  he  did  not 
know.  Now  you  see  that  though  Mrs.  Stanton  told 
me  last  night  that  no  one  but  herself  knew  the  box 
had  been  received,  yet  this  morning  Mason  knew  it. 
She  must  have  squealed." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Moore,  "they  came  to  know  that 
this  Jenkins  woman  had  been  there  and  she  was  com 
pelled  to  admit  the  box." 

"But  about  the  three  boxes?"  said  Ransom.  "I 
got  but  two." 

"We  must  examine  those  boxes  at  once,"  said 
Orton  Pierson.  "We  are  getting  into  shallow  waters 
and  must  be  cautious  in  every  movement  we  make." 


236  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Ransom  produced  a  large  paper  box  from  which  he 
took  the  tin  ones  he  had  stolen  the  night  previous. 
In  the  first  there  were  nothing  but  the  private  papers 
of  Mr.  Stanton  relating  to  transactions  long  since 
closed  and  of  no  significance.  The  other  was  filled 
with  receipted  bills,  many  of  them  of  ancient  date. 

The  conspirators  were  dumfounded.  The  box,  to 
secure  which  a  burglary  had  been  committed,  had  not 
been  obtained.  They  were  in  great  danger — as  great 
as  when  Dick  first  learned  of  its  existence.  Worse, 
indeed,  for  now  burglary  had  been  added  to  compli 
cate  the  situation. 

They  stood  blankly  looking  at  each  other.  Ransom 
broke  the  silence  by  cursing  the  woman  who  had 
misled  them. 

"We  are  in  great  danger,"  said  Moore. 

"And  because  we  don't  know  where  the  box  is  and 
what  is  in  it,"  added  Orton  Pierson. 

"Because  we  don't  know  what  they  know," 
growled  Ransom. 

"You  all  forget  that  Mason  says  that  three  were 
taken,"  suggested  Bob. 

"I'll  swear  I  took  but  two,"  protested  Ransom — 
"all  there  was  there." 

"Well,"  said  Bob  thoughtfully,  "this  is  the  point. 
Mason  says  three  boxes  are  missing.  Ransom  says 
there  were  only  two  there — these  are  the  ones.  It 
seems  to  me  that  Mrs.  Stanton  either  weakened  or 
something  interfered  to  prevent  her  carrying  out  her 
agreement  with  me.  She  may  have  that  box  con 
cealed  and  is  giving  it  out  that  it  went  with  the  rest. 
They  knew  the  box,  for  Mason  spoke  of  it.  If  she  has 
got  it  she  will  keep  it  concealed." 

"But  you  don't  know,"  insisted  Ransom,  "and  our 
hands  are  tied  until  you  do." 

"Here  is  my  point,"  continued  Bob,  "this  Mrs. 
Jenkins  lives  in  Philadelphia.  Let  Moore  go  and 
find  her  out.  It  ought  not  to  be  much  of  a  hunt  and 


PUZZLED  CONSPIRATORS.  2tf 

perhaps  he  can  learn  what  is  in  the  box  from  her, 
though  Mrs.  Stanton  says  she  doesn't  know.  Any 
how  he  may  get  at  something  to  show  us  how  to  go." 

"That's  a  good  suggestion,"  said  Orton  Pierson. 
"I  see  no  other  course." 

"I'll  set  out  this  very  afternoon,"  said  Moore, 
"and  I'll  learn  enough  to  know  whether  we  are  to  go 
on  or  take  to  the  woods." 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  with  these  bloody 
boxes?"  asked  Ransom. 

"Send  them  back  again  by  express,"  said  Moore. 

Ransom  laughed  incredulously. 

"I  mean  it,"  said  Moore.  "It  will  take  any  per 
sonal  reason  out  of  this  affair,  Stanton  may  have  for 
pursuing  seriously  the  discovery  of  who  committed  the 
burglary." 

"It  is  a  good  idea,"  acquiesced  Orton  Pierson. 

"Very  well,"  said  Ransom,  "they  will  go  back. 
But  isn't  this  Mason  piling  things  up  pretty  strong? 
He  is  the  one  who  is  doing  the  fighting." 

"Yes,"  said  Bob,  "he  is  the  one,  d him." 

Ransom  looked  at  the  others  significantly,  but  said 
nothing.  Neither  did  the  others. 

Moore  broke  the  silence  by  saying  to  Bob: 

"Bob,  you  ought  to  get  into  communication  with 
that  woman  Stanton." 

"How  can  I  until  we  know  the  ground  we  stand 
on?"  asked  Bob.  "It  would  be  dangerous  to  go 
there  now.  And  besides  I  have  no  excuse." 

"She  may  have  squealed  on  the  whole  affair,"  said 
Ransom. 

"I  don't  think  she  has,"  said  Orton  Pierson.  "If 
she  had  the  box  wouldn't  be  missing.  It  isn't  likely 
that  anybody  else  went  into  that  house  that  night.  If 
it  is  missing,  it  is  because  she  has  got  it  in  hiding. 
We  can't  tell  that,  nor  can  we  know,  until  she  has 
been  seen." 

Ransom,  looking  to  Bob,  said; 


238  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"I  can  take  you  up  there  so  you  won't  be  seen, 
We  can  lay  quiet  for  a  chance  to  meet  her,  or  to  sea 
her  somehow." 

Bob  shook  his  head. 

"There  is  no  risk  in  going  up  there, ' '  urged  Ransom. 

"See  here,  Bob,"  put  in  Moore,  "the  more  I  think 
of  it  the  clearer  it  is  to  me,  that  you  ought  to  do  as 
Ransom  says.  If  Mrs.  Stanton  made  that  arrange 
ment  with  you,  she  knows  what  that  burglary,  as  they 
call  it,  meant.  If  she  has  squealed  at  all,  she  would 
have  given  you  away  before  you  left  Hetlow's  house. 
The  fact  that  you  were  permitted  to  leave  is  proof  to 
me  that  she  hasn't.  There  is  something  in  her  failure 
to  carry  out  the  scheme  with  you,  and  in  the  box 
being  missing,  that  we  don't  understand." 

"By  George!  that  is  so,"  exclaimed  Bob,  caught 
by  the  argument. 

"Well  then,  you  do  what  Ransom  says.  Go  up 
there  under  cover  and  I  will  go  to  Philadelphia 
to-night.  We  were  all  ready  for  the  next  move  but 
everything  must  stop  now  until  we  know  the  grounds 
we  are  on." 

Bob  yielded,  and  the  worthies  -fell  to  making  plans 
as  to  the  course  to  be  pursued  in  reaching  Mrs.  Stan- 
ton.  Orton  Pierson  was  called  out  of  the  room.  He 
returned  shortly,  much  alarmed,  exclaiming: 

"Mason  went  straight  from  the  station  to  the  police 
headquarters." 

"Well,"  said  Ransom,  "that  ought  not  to  frighten 
you.  It  was  the  famous  burglary  that  sent  him  there." 

"Ah,  but  if  that  were  all,"  returned  Pierson.  "The 
last  place  he  visited  before  he  left  town  was  police 
headquarters." 

"D Mason!"  cried  Ransom.  "He  is  getting 

too  fresh.  He  must  be  stopped.  Bob,  meet  me  at 
the  old  place  to-night,  at  eight  o'clock,  togged  up. 
I'm  off." 

And  thus  the  conference  ended. 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

COMPLICATIONS. 

DICK'S  startling  theory,  by  which  he  connected  the 
burglary  at  Springhill  with  the  pretensions  of  Har 
old  Pierson  to  the  Dugdale  estates,  had  caused  the 
possibility  of  what  the  contents  of  the  tin  box  might 
have  revealed  to  be  lost  sight  of. 

It  was  Mr.  Stanton  who  first  recalled  what  might  be 
lost  in  this  theft  of  the  box.  Accordingly  he  wrote  to 
Dick  urging  that  steps  be  taken,  if  not  to  recover  the 
box,  which  of  course  would  be  more  desirable  but 
naturally  more  difficult,  to  at  least  endeavor  to  ascer 
tain  what  the  contents  consisted  of.  He  suggested,  as 
the  only  means  he  could  think  of,  that  Dick  should  go 
to  Philadelphia  to  see  Mrs.  Jenkins. 

Dick  had  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  Captain  Law- 
ton  when  he  received  this  letter  from  Mr.  Stanton. 
The  detective  had  said  that  Bob,  on  parting  with  Dick 
on  the  day  previous,  had  gone  straightway  to  Orton 
Pierson's  house,  where  Ransom  and  Moore  were 
awaiting  him,  and  to  which  place  Ransom  had  gone 
early  in  the  morning  carrying  a  large  bundle.  The 
detective  further  told  Dick  that,  after  a  long  stay,  the 
three,  Ransom,  Moore,  and  Bob,  had  left  at  different 
times,  and  gone  in  different  directions;  that  trace  had 
been  lost  of  Ransom  and  Bob,  but  that  the  officer  fol 
lowing  Moore  had  tracked  him  to  the  Pennsylvania 
railroad  station  and  saw  him  buy  a  ticket  for  Philadel 
phia,  when,  having  no  instructions  to  leave  the  city, 
he  had  returned  and  made  his  report. 

"That  bundle  carried  by  Ransom,"  said  Dick 
eagerly,  "contained  the  boxes  stolen  from  Springhill." 


240  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"That  is  mere  guessing,"  returned  the  captain. 

"True,"  replied  Dick,  "it  is  guesswork,  but  I  am 
certain  that  to  examine  the  contents  of  those  boxes 
was  the  meaning  of  the  gathering  that  morning." 

"When  Ransom  went  away  he  carried  the  same 
bundle  with  him." 

"And  trace  was  lost  of  him,"  said  Dick  thought 
fully,  "that  is  bad,  for  I  fear  the  boxes  have  been 
made  away  with." 

"I  fear  so,"  said  the  captain,  showing  no  little 
chagrin.  "It  was  very  stupid  of  my  men  to  let  them 
slip,  but  I  imagine  that  they  disguised  themselves,  and 
my  men  were  not  looking  for  that." 

"Well,"  said  Dick,  as  he  rose  to  take  his  departure, 
"the  events  of  the  day  have  justified  to  some  extent 
my  theory,  and  at  all  events  give  good  reasons  for 
proceeding  upon  the  basis  that  Harold  Pierson's  claim 
is  a  fraudulent  one." 

"The  matter  will  be  pursued  with  all  the  skill  and 
energy  of  which  I  am  capable,"  said  the  captain,  with 
considerable  reserve  in  his  manner. 

Dick  waited  a  moment  or  two  for  the  captain  to  go 
on,  hoping  that  he  would  indicate  what  methods  he 
would  employ  in  his  farther  inquiry,  but  as  the  detect 
ive  did  not  seem  disposed  to  gratify  his  desire,  Dick 
bade  him  good-by  and  went  away. 

On  reaching  his  office,  he  found  Mr.  Stanton's  let 
ter.  Immediately  on  reading  it  he  exclaimed  aloud: 

"That  fellow  Moore  has  gone  to  see  Mrs.  Jenkins." 

He  resolved  to  set  out  for  Philadelphia  at  once. 
Assuring  himself  that  he  had  barely  time  to  catch  the 
next  train  he  hurried  off. 

While  these  events  were  occurring  in  New  York, 
Mr.  Stanton,  at  Springhill,  was  wondering  over  the 
receipt  of  a  package  containing  the  two  boxes  filled 
with  his  private  papers  which  had  been  stolen  on  the 
previous  Wednesday  night.  There  was  nothing  to 
indicate  from  whence  they  had  come.  An  examina- 


COMPLICA  TIONS.  *4* 

tion  revealed  that  none  of  the  papers  had  been 
extracted. 

"This  goes  to  the  proof,"  he  said,  thoughtfully  to 
himself,  "that  the  Jenkins  box  was  the  one  the  thieves 
were  after,  and  that  in  their  haste  they  took  the  three 
to  make  sure  of  the  right  one.  They  have  returned 
these  two  because  they  were  of  no  use  to  them.  There 
is  something  in  young  Mason's  theory  after  all." 

He  called  his  wife  and  Wallis  to  tell  them  the  extra 
ordinary  occurrence.  Mrs.  Stanton  was  much  agi 
tated  when  she  saw  the  two  stolen  boxes  returned,  for 
knowing  that  they  were  the  only  ones  taken,  she 
feared  that  their  return  was  preliminary  to  either  a 
confession  or  a  revelation  on  the  part  of  Harold  Pier- 
son,  which  would  expose  her  own  guilty  part  in  the 
intrigue  in  which  she  had  become  involved,  and  from 
which  she  had  receded  at  the  last  moment,  but  which, 
nevertheless,  had  led  to  the  burglary.  She  was  on 
the  point  of  confessing  to  her  husband  that  thejenkins 
box  had  not  been  taken  with  the  others,  but  was 
hidden  by  her  on  the  morning  after  the  burglary.  She 
was  restrained,  however,  by  the  fear  of  her  husband's 
anger  and  of  the  humiliating  position  she  would  be 
placed  in  before  Wallis  and  their  neighbors  of  "The 
Larches." 

"Mr.  Mason  was  right,"  exclaimed  Wallis,  "in  say 
ing  that  it  was  the  Jenkins  box  that  was  wanted." 

"So  I  think,"  replied  her  uncle,  "but  I  am  puzzled 
to  know  how  these  boxes  were  sent  back.  They  must 
have  uncovered  their  tracks  in  returning  them  in  some 
way.  They  were  brought  here  by  the  expressman.  I 
am  going  into  the  village  to  make  inquiries.  I  ought 
to  be  able  to  learn  from  what  place  they  were  shipped 
and  by  whom." 

He  left  them  to  carry  out  this  intention.  Wallis 
waited  until  her  uncle  was  gone  from  the  house,  when 
she  turned  to  her  aunt  and  said  most  pointedly: 

"The  theft  of  that  box  is  most  unfortunate.     If  any- 


242  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

one  interested  in  our  affairs  is  in  any  way  responsible 
for  it,  such  person  can  have  the  satisfaction  of  feeling 
that  he  may  have  contributed  to  Bessie's  loss  of  her 
fortune." 

Mrs.  Stanton's  face  flushed  deeply  as  she  encoun 
tered  Wallis's  dark  eyes  bent  keenly  upon  her.  She 
was  confused,  and  averted  her  head.  Her  manner 
troubled  Wallis.  From  the  beginning,  her  suspicions 
as  to  her  aunt's  relation  to  the  matter  had  been 
aroused.  It  was  difficult  for  her  to  believe  that  Mrs. 
Stanton  had  anything  in  common  with  those  who  had 
broken  into  the  house.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  she 
did  not  believe  that  those  who  had  done  so  were  com 
mon  burglars.  She  had  given  an  implicit  faith  to 
Dick's  theory,  believing  in  it  even  more  firmly  than 
Dick  himself.  Therefore,  influenced  by  him  to  sus 
pect  Harold  Pierson,  remembering  her  aunt's  long 
and  confidential  conversation  with  that  young  man  at 
Mr.  Hetlow's  house  on  the  night  of  the  burglary,  the 
evident  agitation  of  both,  and,  knowing  Mrs.  Stan- 
ton's  absurd  and  unreasonable  jealousy  of  Mrs.  Jen 
kins,  she  had  come  to  believe  that  in  that  conversation 
her  aunt  had  told  Harold  Pierson  that  the  box  had  been 
received  that  afternoon.  She  did  not  believe  that  her 
aunt  had  told  this  with  any  view  of  committing  wrong, 
but  she  was  influenced  thereto  by  the  fancy  that  the  box 
did  not  contain  anything  relating  to  the  Dugdale  heir- 
ship,  but  to  the  imaginary  child  she  insisted  Mr. 
Stanton  was  hunting  for.  Her  conclusion  had  been 
that  her  aunt  having  told  of  the  box,  Harold  Pierson, 
becoming  alarmed  as  to  the  effect  its  contents  might 
have  on  him,  had  resolved  upon  the  desperate  means 
of  securing  it,  by  entering  the  house,  having  first 
obtained  from  her  aunt  knowledge  as  to  its  location, 
and  that  Mrs.  Stanton,  recognizing  in  the  morning  the 
meaning  of  the  burglary,  had  maintained  silence,  hoping 
thereby  to  conceal  the  fact  that  she  had  in  the  first 
instance  secreted  it.  The  letter  from  Mrs.  Jen- 


, 
COM  PLICA  TIONS.  243 

kins  to  Dick,  transmitting  the  key,  had  forced  her  to 
the  admission  of  Mrs.  Jenkins's  visit,  but  the  box 
then  having  disappeared,  as  the  result  of  her  indis 
creet  revelation  to  Harold  Pierson,  she  was  compelled 
to  deny  further  knowledge  of  it  than  that  she  had 
placed  it  on  the  library  table  and  forgotten  it.  In 
short,  she  thought  her  aunt  was  less  guilty  than  indis 
creet,  and  that  the  trouble  which  had  followed  was 
the  outcome  of  her  absurd  jealousy  which,  up  to 
that  time,  had  been  only  amusing  to  Wallis.  • 

Mrs.  Stanton,  recovering  from  the  confusion  into 
which  she  had  been  thrown  by  Wallis's  barbed  speech, 
replied: 

"A  great  deal  of  unnecessary  fuss  is  made  about 
that  box.  Your  uncle  is  annoyed  only  because  he 
thinks  he  is  prevented  from  finding  that  child.  The 
woman  in  a  red  shawl  is  the  mother  of  Mrs.  Jenkins. 
I  found  that  out.  The  affair  is  much  further  back 
than  I  thought  it  was." 

"Pshaw,"  cried  Wallis  contemptuously,  and  much 
vexed,  "one  would  suppose  that  with  the  trouble  it 
has  led  to,  you  would  give  up  that  absurd  notion." 

She  turned  on  her  heel  and  walked  away.  She 
went  out  of  the  house,  going  in  the  direction  of  "The 
Larches,"  her  purpose  being  to  tell  Bessie  of  the 
return  of  the  boxes.  As  she  walked  along  she  tried 
to  think  of  the  course  she  ought  to  pursue  with  refer 
ence  to  her  aunt's  conduct.  She  was  much  perplexed, 
but  her  final  conclusion  was  that,  were  she  to  tell  her 
suspicions,  it  would  be  only  to  involve  her  aunt  in 
trouble  without  leading  to  the  restoration  of  the  box. 
But  there  was  this  consideration.  Were  her  suspicions 
correct,  and  having  concealed  the  box,  had  her  aunt 
informed  Harold  Pierson  as  to  it  and  could  she  be 
forced  to  admit  such  to  be  the  case,  there  would  then 
be  certain  proof  that  Harold  Pierson  was  intimately 
connected  with  the  burglary.  Her  determination  as 
she  reached  the  house  was  that  she  would^say  nothing 


244  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

to  her  uncle,  or  to  anyone  else  except  Dick.  And, 
as  soon  as  she  could  send  him  word,  she  would  ask 
him  to  come  to  Springhill  that  she  might  consult  him 
as  to  what  should  be  done. 

The  fact  that  Mr.  Stanton  and  Wallis  had  left  the 
house  and  that  Mrs.  Stanton  was  alone,  was  immedi 
ately  conveyed  to  Bob  and  Ransom,  who  were  in  hid 
ing  in  the  neighborhood.  As  soon  as  it  was  safe  for 
Bob  to  make  his  appearance  at  Springhill  he  boldly 
entered.  He  was  fortunate  in  finding  Mrs.  Stanton 
in  the  hall.  She  was  surprised  upon  seeing  him  but 
nevertheless  greeted  him  with  an  exclamation  indica 
tive  of  her  satisfaction.  Bob  did  not  wait  for  her  to 
ask  any  questions,  but  abruptly  said: 

"You  did  not  keep  your  engagement  of  Wednesday 
night;  nor  have  we  had  the  box  which  you  promised 
we  could  secure." 

"It  was  not  my  fault,"  replied  Mrs.  Stanton. 
"The  tin  box  was  upon  the  same  table  as  the  ones  you 
took  were." 

"You  are  mistaken  as  to  my  having  taken  them," 
replied  Bob.  "The  person  I  sent  found  on  his  ar 
rival  that  the  window  was  not  arranged  so  that  he 
could  lift  it,  and  he  was  forced  to  break  it  open.  1 
would  not  have  permitted  that  had  I  known  it,  but 
when  he  did  enter  in  this  forcible  manner,  he  found 
upon  the  table  two  boxes,  the  only  ones  that  were 
there,  and  carried  them  off.  As  you  must  know  they 
contained  nothing  of  importance  to  us." 

"They  have  been  returned,"  said  Mrs.  Stanton. 
"Mr.  Stanton  has  now  gone  to  the  village  for  the 
purpose  of  making  inquiries  as  to  where  they  came 
from." 

"He  will  not  find  out,"  said  Bob.  "I  know  they 
v/ere  returned  and  I  know  the  sending  of  them  cannot 
be  traced.  However,  it  is  not  to  talk  about  those 
boxes  that  I  have  come  to  you.  I  am  here  secretly, 
for  I  do  not  wish  anyone  to  know  I  have  seen  you. 


COM PLIC A  TIONS,  245 

But  I  do  want  that  box  you  promised  I  should  secure, 
and  I  must  have  it." 

This  was  said  in  so  threatening  a  manner  that  Mrs. 
Stanton  was  not  a  little  alarmed.  From  the  moment 
Bob  appeared  she  had,  however,  determined  not  to 
yield  the  box  to  him.  Her  fright  had  been  too  great 
over  the  events  resulting  from  the  discovery  of  the 
burglary  of  Thursday  morning  and  the  attitude  of 
those  about  her.  Although  she  persisted  in  her  absurd 
delusion  as  to  what  the  contents  of  this  box  would 
show,  as  incriminating  her  husband,  still  the  conver 
sation  between  Mr.  Stanton  and  Dick,  and  the  very 
pointed  remarks  only  half  an  hour  previous  of  VVallis, 
had  somewhat  shaken  her  in  her  belief. 

Though  frightened  by  Bob's  determined  manner, 
she  had  no  mind  to  go  further  than  she  had  already 
gone.  Prudence,  however,  dictated  to  her  to  equivo 
cate,  and  so,  when  Bob  repeated  his  remark,  she  told 
him  that  it  was  impossible  and  that  the  box  was  no 
longer  under  her  control. 

"Then  it  has  passed  into  the  hands  of  that  man 
Mason,"  exclaimed  Bob,  very  much  alarmed. 

"No,"  Mrs.  Stanton  replied,  "neither  he,  nor  Mr. 
Stanton,  nor  indeed  Mr.  Hetlow,  have  the  box  nor 
will  they  have  it.  While  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  give 
it  to  you,  you  can  rest  assured  that  it  is  safe,  where 
neither  they  nor  anyone  else  will  be  able  to  obtain  it. " 

Bob  looked  at  her  suspiciously  and  reflected  a  mo 
ment  or  two.  Then  he  said  as  if  a  new  idea  had 
broken  upon  him: 

"You  did  not  intend  then  to  arrange  that  window 
as  you  had  agreed  upon?" 

"I  had  no  opportunity,"  replied  Mrs.  Stanton. 
"Mr.  Stanton  and  Mr.  Mason  on  our  return  went 
immediately  into  the  library,  where  they  remained  so 
long  that  I  was  compelled  to  abandon  any  attempt. 
Nevertheless,  the  man  you  sent  to  get  the  box  having 
broken  through  the  window  could  easily  have  obtained 


246  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

it.  It  stood  upon  the  table  with  the  others.  The 
next  morning  I  was  the  first  to  enter  the  room  after 
the  alarm  was  given  that  the  house  had  been  entered, 
and,  seeing  the  box,  disposed  of  it  before  any  of  the 
others  could  see  it.  But  in  such  a  manner  that  I  can 
not  get  it  for  you." 

"But  Mason  knew  tha*  Mrs.  Jenkins  had  left  it 
with  you,"  rejoined  Bob. 

"That  is  true,"  replied  Mrs,  Stanton,  "but  it  was 
purely  by  accident.  When  Mrs.  Jenkins  left  the  box 
with  me  she  forgot  to  leave  the  key.  Returning  to 
New  York,  and  discovering  that  she  still  had  it,  she 
inclosed  the  key  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Mason,  which  in 
formed  him  that  she  had  left  the  box  with  me.  I  was 
therefore  forced  to  admit  that  such  was  the  case,  but 
all  rest  under  the  belief  that  at  the  time  the  two  boxes 
were  taken  the  Jenkins  box  was  also  carried  off.  You 
are  quite  as  secure  from  anything  occurring  to' interfere 
with  your  matters  as  coming  from  that  box,  as  if  it 
were  already  in  your  hands,  Mr.  Stanton  says  that 
the  contents  might  go  to  the  proof  of  your  claim,  but 
I  know  better.  I  am  certain  Mr.  Stanton's  desire  for 
that  box  is  to  destroy  proof  against  himself." 

At  this  moment  a  long  low  whistle  sounded  not  far 
from  the  door.  Upon  hearing  it  Bob  started  and  said 
hastily: 

"Can  I  rely  upon  your  assurance  that  that  box  will 
not  go  into  the  hands  of  anybody?" 

"You  can  be.  sure  that  it  will  not  go  into  the  hands 
of  anyone  who  can  harm  or  interfere  with  you," 
replied  Mrs.  Stanton. 

"I  presume,"  said  Bob,  "that  I  must  rest  content 
with  this.  I  cannot  remain  longer  without  being  dis 
covered.  That  whistle  was  a  signal  for  me  to  depart. 
I  shall  rely  upon  your  promise." 

With  this  he  walked  out  of  the  door  opposite  to  that 
by  which  he  had  entered,  descended  to  the  lawn,  and 
Striding  rapidly  across  it  disappeared  in  the  shrubbery 


COMPLICA  TIONS.  247 

upon  the  other  side,  leaving  Mrs.  Stanton  in  much 
agitation,  gratefully  thankful  that  the  ordeal  she  had 
so  much  dreaded  when  she  saw  Bob  enter,  had  passed 
so  quickly. 

He  had  hardly  passed  out  of  sight  when  Mr.  Stan- 
ton  entered.  He  was  too  much  engrossed  in  the  busi 
ness  he  had  been  upon  to  notice  his  wife's  evident 
confusion,  and  said  abruptly: 

"I  have  not  been  able  to  ascertain  a  single  fact  con 
cerning  the  shipment  of  that  bundle.  It  came  to  the 
station  addressed  to  me  prepaid  and  the  way-bill  does 
not  discover  who  the  shipper  was.  The  expressman 
who  brought  it  here  was  the  local  man,  directed  to  do 
so  by  the  station  agent.  The  more  I  consider  this 
matter,  the  more  convinced  I  am,  that  young  Mason 
was  correct  in  saying  that  a  close  relation  exists 
between  Harold  Pierson's  claim  to  be  young  Dugdale 
and  the  burglary  of  Wednesday  night.  You  see,"  he 
went  on,  in  an  argumentative  tone,  "either  young 
Pierson,  or  those  acting  for  him,  must  have  known  of 
Mrs.  Jenkins  coming  to  this  house,  and  that  she  car 
ried  with  her  a  box,  the  contents  of  which  related  in 
some  degree  to  the  adoption  of  Edmund  Dugdale's 
child.  Now  I  am  not  quite  prepared  to  go  so  far  as 
young  Mason  does  in  assuming  that  it  is  proof  positive 
that  the  claim  of  Pierson  is  necessarily  thereby  a 
fraudulent  one.  It  is  quite  possible  that  he  has  been 
persuaded  to  believe,  although  Mr.  Hetlow's  treat 
ment  of  him  would  not  justify  the  conclusion,  that  if 
the  contents  of  this  box  were  to  prove  his  claim  they 
would  be  concealed  from  him  by  Mr.  Hetlow  and 
those  acting  for  him,  and  that  therefore  he  was  justified 
in  resorting  to  such  desperate  means  to  obtain  posses 
sion  of  it." 

"I  don't  see  any  reason  why  Mr.  Mason  should 
regard  Mr.  Pierson  with  such  enmity,"  replied  Mrs. 
Stanton,  now  quite  composed,  finding,  that  her  hus 
band  had  not  noticed  traces  of  agitation  in  herself. 


248  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"I  think  Mr.  Mason  regrets  very  much  his  efforts  in 
discovering  the  Dugdale  heir.  You  know  he  is  in  love 
with  Bessie  and  doubtless  has  received  assurances  from 
her  that  his  love  is  returned,  and  that  being  the  case, 
he  is  now  regretting  that  the  large  amount  of  money 
which  would  fall  to  her,  if  the  real  heir  was  not  found, 
is  in  danger  of  going  elsewhere." 

"Oh,  nonsense,"  returned  Mr.  Stanton  contemptu 
ously,  "young  Mason  is  a  very  straightforward,  well- 
meaning  young  man.  I  think  it  very  probable  that  I 
am  wholly  responsible  for  Mason's  condition  of  mind 
with  reference  to  these  suspicions  of  his." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  that,"  replied  Mrs.  Stanton. 
"That  has  been  my  belief  from  the  beginning." 

Mr.  Stanton,  who  had  turned  to  go  into  the  library, 
wheeled  about  and  said  sharply: 

"Now,  what  do  you  mean  by  that?  You  certainly 
don't  understand  what  I  intended  to  say.  Sometime 
ago  I  told  Mason  that  in  view  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  Bessie,  and  that  believing  as 
he  had  said  that  the  inheritance  of  such  an  estate 
would  lift  her  into  a  rank  of  life  beyond  his  preten 
sions  he  would  be  in  danger  of  being  charged  with 
presenting  a  Dugdale  heir  whether  the  true  one  was 
found  or  not.  Since  that  time  I  have  noticed  a  mor 
bid  sensitiveness  on  his  part,  and  a  determined  per 
sistency  in  urging  that  Harold  Pierson's  claim  should 
be  most  rigidly  examined.  He  is  quite  right  in  this, 
for  the  search  has  been  wholly  under  his  charge  and 
he  is  responsible  for  having  presented  Harold  Pierson 
to  the  attention  of  Mr.  Hetlow.  That  is  all  I  mean, 
and  I  have  no  further  connection  with  it  than  that, 
so  don't  give  me  another  exhibition  of  your  silliness." 

With  that  he  turned  into  the  library,  leaving  Mrs. 
Stanton  alone. 

While  these  events  were  taking  place  at  Springhill, 
Dick  was  in  Philadelphia  bent  on  his  interview  with 
Mrs.  Jenkins.  Having  her  address  he  found  her 


COM  PLICA  TIONS.  249 

without  difficulty.  She  was,  of  course,  astonished  to 
see  her  caller,  and  listening  to  his  reasons  she  abruptly 
said: 

"Why,  Mr.  Mason,  a  person  was  here  last  night  to 
inquire  as  to  the  very  same  thing." 

This  did  not  surprise  Dick,  for  when  he  left  New 
York  he  was  satisfied  that  Moore  had  preceded  him. 
He  asked  Mrs.  Jenkins  for  a  description  of  the  person 
who  had  called  upon  her  the  previous  evening,  and 
found  it  agreed  with  the  description  given  by  Mrs. 
Tomlinson  as  to  the  one  who  had  called  upon  her  in 
the  very  beginning  of  the  search,  and  also  with  Cap 
tain  Lawton's  description  of  Moore. 

"Well,"  he  said  anxiously,  "did  you  give  him  all 
the  information  you  could?" 

"It  was  very  little  I  could  give  him,"  she  replied. 
"Though  I  looked  over  the  papers  I  could  not  under 
stand  them.  My  husband,  however,  understood  them 
better  than  I  did,  but  he  was  not  at  home  nor  is  he 
to-day.  He  has  gone  out  of  town  for  some  days,  so 
that  the  person  really  went  away  without  anything 
being  told  him." 

While  this  was  satisfactory  to  Dick,  so  far  as  it 
showed  that  Moore's  errand  had  been  fruitless,  it  was 
not  satisfactory  as  it  evidenced  that  it  would  be  impos 
sible  for  him  to  obtain  the  information  as  to  the  con 
tents  of  the  box.  He,  however,  questioned  Mrs.  Jen 
kins  very  closely,  but  all  that  he  could  elicit  was  that 
there  were  four  letters  which  were  evidently  from  the 
person  who  had  adopted  the  child,  and  a  paper  which 
set  forth  the  fact  that  the  child  had  been  adopted  and 
had  been  received  from  Thomas  Powers.  Whether 
this  paper  was  signed,  or  if  signed,  by  what  name, 
Mrs.  Jenkins  was  wholly  unable  to  state.  Indeed  she 
seemed  to  be  in  a  somewhat  muddled  condition  con 
cerning  it,  and  so  at  last  Dick  was  compelled  to  forego 
further  effort  and  departed. 

After  he    left  the    house,   hoivever,   the  thought 


*5<>  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

occurred  to  him,  that  if  the  box  contained  the  papers 
which  Mrs.  Jenkins  said  it  did  and  if  they  revealed 
the  truth  as  to  the  adoption  of  the  child,  it  was  strange 
that  Moore  should  have  taken  the  trouble  to  have  vis 
ited  Mrs.  Jenkins  in  the  quest  of  further  information. 
So  strong  was  his  thought  as  indicating  that  either  the 
papers  did  not  reveal  the  whole  truth,  or  that  after 
all  the  box  had  not  been  secured  by  the  conspirators, 
that  he  returned  to  Mrs.  Jenkins  to  question  her  more 
particularly  as  to  what  had  occurred  between  herself 
and  Moore. 

The  second  interview  with  her  was  somewhat  more 
satisfactory.  Mrs.  Jenkins  was  quite  certain  that 
Moore  had  told  her  that  Mr.  Mason  had  learned  that 
the  box  had  been  delivered,  only  to  learn  at  the  same 
time  that  it  had  been  stolen,  and  that  he  had  come 
in  the  endeavor  to  inform  himself  as  to  its  contents, 
because,  having  been  stolen,  Mr.  Mason  had  not  been 
able  to  do  so.  This  seemed  to  show  to  Dick  that  the 
conspirators  were  not  themselves  acquainted  with  the 
contents,  but  he  could  arrive  at  no  conclusion  which 
seemed  probable  as  to  why  this  should  be,  once  having 
had  it  in  their  possession.  He  thought  perhaps  that 
in  the  hurry  it  had  been  lost,  but  as  it  was  a  mere 
matter  of  speculation  he  thought  that  he  could  indulge 
himself  in  a  dozen  different  ways  without  arriving  at 
anything  definite.  On  the  whole  his  expedition  to 
Philadelphia  only  seemed  to  make  the  case  more  mys 
terious  and  more  complicated.  On  his  arrival  in  the 
city  he  hastened  at  once  to  Captain  Lawton,  who  told 
him  that  no  trace  had  been  recovered  as  to  Ransom  or 
Bob,  and  that  Moore  had  appeared  at  Orton  Pierson's 
house  quite  early  in  the  morning,  and  after  a  brief  inter 
view  with  Pierson  had  left,  going  about  his  ordinary 
pursuits.  The  detective  told  him  that  he  had  made  com- 

Kratively  little  progress  in  establishing  the  theory  he 
d  accepted  from  Dick,  and  apprehended  that  it  would 
be  a  work  of  considerable  time  to  gather  the  infonna- 


COMPLICATIONS.  *5» 

tion  necessary  to  direct  action.  He  volunteered  the 
statement,  that  so  far  as  he  had  gone  it  was  indicated 
that  the  four  people  under  surveillance  were  all  shady 
characters,  and  that  he  was  making  a  very  rigid  ex 
amination  into  their  past  with  the  hope  of  connecting 
them  with  something  that  would  justify  him  in  coming 
into  closer  quarters  with  them,  and  which  he  could 
use  as  a  lever  to  force  one,  or  all  of  them,  to  confess 
the  parts  they  were  playing. 

Dick  went  away  from  this  interview  much  perplexed. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  so  far  from  light  being  shed 
upon  the  case  it  was  growing  darker  and  darker.  All 
that  seemed  to  him  at  all  clear  was  that  Harold  Pier- 
son  was  not  young  Dugdale,  and  yet,  if  something  more 
definite  than  had  yet  been  secured  which  would  enable 
them  to  make  the  charge  that  a  conspiracy  existed 
was  not  obtained,  and  if  Pierson  continued  to  pile  up 
proofs  of  his  being  a  son  of  Edmund  Dugdale,  the 
property  might  pass  into  his  hands  before  the  theory 
concocted  by  him,  and  adopted  by  Captain  Lawton- 
could  be  turned  into  fact. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A    BURST    OF    SUNSHINE. 

As  Wallis  had  promised  herself,  she  wrote  to  Dick 
that  she  was  anxious  to  see  him  on  a  most  important 
matter.  This  letter  Dick  received  at  his  room,  after 
leaving  Captain  Lawton.  Wallis  seemed  to  be  so 
urgent  that  he  determined  to  go  to  her  at  once,  and  on 
alighting  from  the  cars  at  the  station  at  Dobbs  Ferry, 
he  found  her  awaiting  him. 

"I  made  a  good  guess,"  she  said.  "Uncle  told  me 
that  he  thought  you  had  gone  to  Philadelphia  last 
evening  and  that  you  would  return  to-day,  so  I  sent 
my  letter  to  your  home  address,  rather  than  to  the 
office,  and  I  thought  that,  upon  receiving  it,  you  would 
come  up  in  this  train.  I  wanted  to  have  the  chance 
for  a  talk  with  you  before  we  got  home." 

She  then  told  Dick  all  that  had  occurred  since  he 
had  left  Springhill,  and  as  well  her  suspicions  as  to 
her  aunt's  connection  with  the  burglary. 

It  was  difficult  for  Dick  to  believe  that  Mrs.  Stan- 
ton  had  been  led  by  her  jealousy  into  such  a  compli 
cation.  When  he  found  that  Wallis  had  nothing  sub 
stantial  upon  which  to  base  her  suspicions  he  was  at  a 
loss  as  to  what  course  to  suggest,  but  the  final  conclu 
sion  between  them  was,  to  do  nothing  in  the  way  of 
making  any  charge  against  Mrs.  Stanton,  but  to  watch 
carefully  as  to  what  relations  she  might  have  with 
Harold  Pierson  and  to  prevent  any  further  intriguing 
between  them.  "To  be  sure,"  argued  Dick,  "all  the 
damage  she  can  do  has  been  done.  If  your  theory  is 
correct  the  whole  extent  of  the  intrigue  was  the 
obtaining  of  that  box.  It  was  when  she  told  him  of  it 


A  BURST  OF  SUNSHINE.  253 

that  he,  undoubtedly  alarmed  as  to  what  its  content: 
might  be,  determined  to  get  possession  of  it,  and  he  has 
made  her  a  victim  in  the  matter.  Having  obtained  k 
of  course  he  is  through  with  Mrs.  Stanton,  but  I  ani 
disposed  to  believe  from  what  I  heard  in  Philadelphia, 
that  either  the  box  did  not  reveal  anything  conclusive, 
or  it  has  been  lost  before  an  examination  could  be 
made.  I  am  led  to  believe  that  the  sole  purpose  of 
Moore's  visit  to  Philadelphia  was  to  discover  whether 
Mrs.  Jenkins  knew  anything  more  than  the  box  told." 

"Auntie  has  been  very  silly,"  replied  Wallis.  "She 
has  been  misled  by  her  absurd  jealousy  of  uncle  and 
has  fallen  into  the  trap  which  Harold  Pierson  laid  for 
her.  But  I  do  not  want  to  bring  her  into  any  trouble, 
and  I  would  not  tell'it  to  uncle,  fearing  his  anger.  I 
had  no  one  else  to  consult  but  you.  I  am  glad  you  do 
not  think  it  necessary  to  do  anything  more,  but  I 
think  I  will  have  a  plain  talk  with  auntie  and  tell  her 
what  my  suspicions  are." 

"I  do  not  believe  that  anything  can  be  accom 
plished  now  in  the  way  of  restoration,"  said  Dick, 
"but  if  she  will  talk  to  you,  we  may  be  satisfied  as  to 
just  what  her  connection  with  Harold  Pierson  was. 
It  would  settle  the  question  as  to  whether  or  not  our 
suspicions  of  Harold  Pierson  are  true." 

"I  will  endeavor  to  make  her  tell,"  said  Wallis, 
"and  now  let  us  drop  the  topic,  while  I  tell  you  that 
Lord  Merrimount  has  returned.  He  came  quite  un 
expectedly  this  morning." 

Dick  was  by  no  means  pleased  with  this  information. 
He  had  persuaded  himself  that  the  young  Englishman 
would  remain  a\vay  a  much  longer  time.  He  had 
hoped  during  his  absence  to  arrive  at  an  understand 
ing  with  Bessie.  He  now  realized,  as  he  had  not  done 
before,  that  he  was  no  farther  advanced  than  he  had 
been  at  the  time  of  the  young  nobleman's  departure, 
indeed,  he  had  seen  Bessie  but  for  a  brief  moment  on 
the  last  night  that  Harold  Pierson  was  at  "The 


254  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Larches."  The  note  which  he  had  received  from 
Bessie  had  still  been  unexplained  and  the  attitude 
assumed  by  Mr.  Hetlow  toward  himself,  which,  result 
ing  in  nothing  overt,  had,  nevertheless,  erected  a  bar 
rier  intangible  yet  actual.  While  he  had  been  in  a 
fairly  contented  frame  of  mind  regarding  Bessie's 
feeling  toward  himself,  he  had,  by  reason  of  the  events 
so  rapidly  treading  on  each  other's  heels,  permitted  all 
other  things  to  drift.  Now,  however,  on  learning  that 
Lord  Merrimount  had  returned,  and  so  much  sooner 
than  was  expected,  he  fell  back  into  that  condition  of 
mind  in  which  he  had  been,  when  he  first  believed 
that  Merrimount' s  purpose  in  his  visit  to  America  was 
to  sue  for  Bessie's  hand. 

The  acute  Wallis  quickly  perceived  the  anxious  ex 
pression  vrhich  had  settled  upon  his  face.  So  she 
said : 

"Does  my  news  give  you  alarm?  Well,  rest  assured 
you  are  in  no  danger.  I  think  that  I  can  tell  you,  with 
out  betraying  confidences,  that  no  matter  whether  Bessie 
does  or  does  not  inherit  the  Dugdale  estates,  she  will 
not  accept  Lord  Merrimount." 

"Since  you  have  told  me  so  much,"  said  Dick.  "I 
think  you  might  relieve  my  suspense  with  regard  to  the 
other  matter  I  have  asked  you." 

"Oh,  no,"  laughed  Wallis,  "I  cannot  tell  you  that. 
Bessie  will  not  allow  me  to  do  so.  I  do  not  think  it  is 
because  she  does  not  want  you  to  know,  but  because 
she  wants  to  tell  you  it  herself." 

"You  promised  me  an  interview  with  her  which  you 
did  not  give  me,"  said  Dick. 

"I  promised  you,"  repeated  Wallis.  "It  was  Bes 
sie  who  promised  you  the  interview.  I  merely  carried 
the  message,  but  I  will  be  gracious.  I  will  tell  you  of 
an  inference  I  have  drawn  from  a  conversation  with 
Bessie,  and  that  is  that  whoever  may  come  a-wooing 
to  'The  Larches'  there  will  be  but  one  who  will 
receive  the  favor  of  the  daughter,  no  matter  how  he 


A  BURST  OF  SUNSHINE.  *S5 

may  be  regarded  by  the  father,  and  that  one  is  a  very 
conceited  and  stupid  gentleman  of  your  intimate 
acquaintance." 

"Ipresume,"  said  Dick,  "your  loyalty  to  confidence 
will  not  permit  you  to  tell  who  that  very  conceited  and 
stupid  gentleman  is?" 

"Oh,  yes,  and  if  he  was  not  as  stupid  as  I  have  said 
he  was,  he  would  have  guessed  immediately  that  I 
meant  none  other  than  Mr.  Richard  Mason." 

"Wallis,"  said  Dick,  with  somewhat  of  his  old  man 
ner,  "you  know  that  I  have  a  very  great  admiration 
for  your  acuteness,  but  if  you  would  cultivate  a  little 
more  directness  of  speech  you  would  be  a  great  deal 
more  comforting." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Wallis  laughingly,  "I  will  be 
direct  and  tell  you  that  Bessie  has  left  me  in  no  doubt, 
though  not  intentionally,  that  her  heart  is  solely  given 
to  yourself.  It  only  remains  for  you  to  secure  an 
interview  with  Bessie  and  assure  yourself." 

"But  oh  when,  and  oh  where,"  cried  Dick.  "I 
have  sedulously  sought  one  ever  since  I  received  her 
mysterious  note,  but  either  she  avoids,  or  her  father 
very  skillfully  prevents  one." 

"Well,"  said  Wallis,  "I  can  easily  relieve  you  as  to 
that.  This  evening,  as  it  has  been  arranged,  Bessie 
and  Lord  Merrimount  are  coming  over  to  Springhill 
and  we  are  to  go  over  the  tunnel  for  a  row  on  the 
river.  Uncle  and  Mr.  Hetlow  propose  to  enact  the 
part  of  American  citizens  this  evening  and  go  to  a 
political  meeting  in  the  village.  So  as  no  one  knows 
that  you  are  coming  to  Springhill  I  do  not  know  that 
it  is  necessary  to  send  a  telegraphic  message  to  'The 
Larches'  of  the  fact  of  your  arrival.  There;  there  is 
your  interview  ready-made.  I  will  be  your  good  ally 
to-night,  as  I  have  been  in  the  past,  and  help  you  to 
secure  it." 

This  conversation  brought  them  to  the  door  of 
Springhill  and  was  -interrupted  by  the  appearance  of 


256  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

Mr.  Stanton,  much  surprised  to  see  Dick,  whom  he 
imagined  could  hardly  have  returned  from  Philadel 
phia. 

Anxious  to  learn  the  result  of  Dick's  hurried  trip  to 
Philadelphia,  the  old  lawyer  carried  Dick  into  the 
library  to  listen  to  the  tale.  That  which  seemed  to 
him  the  most  significant  was  the  discovery  that  Moore 
had  preceded  Dick  in  his  visit  to  Mrs.  Jenkins. 

It  was  quite  evident  from  his  talk  that  he  did  not 
anticipate  that  Dick  would  learn  much  that  was  impor 
tant  from  Mrs.  Jenkins,  but  that  he  had  urged  him  to 
go  upon  the  principle  that  no  stone  should  be  left 
unturned.  He  argued  as  to  Moore's  trip,  as  Dick  had 
done,  that  it  indicated  that  the  conspirators  had  not 
secured  the  information  they  desired  in  securing  the 
box,  and  that  the  sole  purpose  of  Moore's  effort  was 
to  supplement  such  information  as  they  had  obtained 
by  a  personal  interview  with  the  daughter  of  James 
Powers. 

"In  short,"  said  the  old  lawyer,  concluding  his 
remarks,  "I  do  not  believe  we  have  lost  very  much  in 
losing  that  box.  If  its  contents  were  conclusive  as  to 
the  adoption  of  the  child,  Moore  would  not  have  gone 
to  Philadelphia." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Dick,  struck  by  anew  thought 
which  had  not  until  then  occurred  to  him,  "suppose 
the  information  is  conclusive,  would  it'not  have  been 
the  part  of  wisdom  for  them,  before  proceeding  further, 
to  have  attempted  to  learn  how  much  Mrs.  Jenkins 
knew  as  to  the  contents?  And  was  not  that  the  pur 
pose  of  Moore's  call?" 

"You  are  quite  right,"  said  Mr.  Stanton  promptly, 
"that  did  not  occur  to  me.  To  be  sure  Moore  did  not 
learn  anything  from  Mrs.  Jenkins — but  he  did,  on  sec 
ond  thought.  He  did  learn  that  Mrs.  Jenkins  knew 
nothing  about  it  and  so,  if  the  information  disclosed  by 
the  contents  of  the  box  is  conclusive  as  to  the  person 
adopting  Edmund  Dugdale's  child,  then  their  position 


A  BURST  OF  SUNSHINE.  357 

is  greatly  strengthened,  for  they  now  know  that  the  only 
connecting  link  we  have  with  James  Powers  is  without 
the  knowledge  which  is  within  their  possession.  Yes, 
they  are  now  in  a  position  to  go  on  boldly  to  the  end, 
knowing  just  what  to  avoid.  Such  further  proof  as 
they  may  submit  we  will  be  unable  to  combat.  There 
will  be  a  fight  before  us,  and  I  doubt  whether  we  can 
get  Hetlow  to  make  that  fight,  because  he  seems  to  b 
strangely  inclined  to  submit  to  what  he  calls  the 
inevitable." 

"Then  we  must  rely  wholly  upon  Captain  Lawton's 
efforts,"  said  Dick.  "He  is  now  engaged  in  hunting 
up  the  antecedents  of  the  men  who  are  in  relation  to 
this  matter,  and  if  he  can  find,  as  he  expects  to,  that 
they  have  been  connected  with  some  wrong-doing  in 
the  past,  he  will  use  those  crimes  as  levers  to  compel 
them  to  confession  as  to  this  intrigue." 

"We  do  not  want  to  rush  into  the  irrevocable  con 
clusion  that  Harold  Pierson's  claim  is  fraudulent, "  re 
plied  Mr.  Stanton  warningly.  "It  may  be  that,  notwith 
standing  what  seems  to  be  suspicious  associations} 
Harold  Pierson  may  be  all  that  he  pretends  to  be. 
However,  you  can  rely  that  there  will  be  a  demonstra 
tion  of  strpnger  proof  very  shortly." 

Further  conversation  on  the  topic  was  interrupted 
by  a  summons  to  dinner.  When  the  meal  was  con 
cluded,  Mr.  Stanton  announced  that  he  was  going  into 
the  village  to  attend  a  meeting  in  company  with  Mr. 
Hetlow  and  that  the  hour  had  already  arrived.  As  he 
was  about  to  leave  the  house,  Wallis  said  to  him  that 
it  was  not  necessary  for  him  to  tell  of  the  arrival  of 
Mr.  Mason  at  Springhill.  In  answer  to  her  uncle's 
wondering  inquiry  as  to  why  he  should  not,  she  said 
that  she  wanted  to  reserve  the  knowledge  of  Dick's 
presence  as  a  surprise  to  Lord  Merrimount  and  Bessie, 
whom  she  was  expecting  momentarily.  So  promising 
that  he  would  not  inform  them  her  uncle  went  off. 

Indeed  he  met  the  two  on  their  way  to  Springhill. 


«5  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

With  the  single  exception  of  the  meeting  on  the  pre 
vious  Wednesday  night,  Dick  had  not  seen  Bessie  since 
the  day  of  her  spirited  scene  with  her  father,  and, 
consequently,  he  awaited  her  coming  with  no  little 
nervousness.  He  was  anxious  to  know  how  she  would 
meet  him,  and  he  thought  from  the  manner  of  her 
greeting  he  would  be  enabled  to  judge  to  some  extent 
of  the  meaning  of  her  mysterious  note.  If  she  were 
cold  and  constrained,  did  she  endeavor  to  put  a  guard 
upon  herself  and  try  to  hold  him  at  a  distance,  he 
thought  he  would  be  confirmed  in  his  belief  that  her 
father  had  forbade  'further  intercourse  with  him  and 
that  she  had  determined  to  obey  the  parental  man 
date.  When,  however,  she  met  him,  although  much 
surprised  to  see  him,  her  manner  was  graciousness 
itself.  Indeed  it  was  even  more  than  gracious,  for  her 
cheeks  flushed  deeply  and  into  her  eyes  leaped  a  glad 
light,  unmistakable  and  most  reassuring  to  him. 
There  was  no  constraint  in  her  manner,  but  a  soft  shy 
ness  which  became  her  well. 

Lord  Merrimount's  greeting  was  most  cordial.  He 
evidently  was  glad  to  see  Dick,  and,  not  expecting  a 
meeting,  was  moved  to  a  little  more  warmth  than  he 
usually  displayed. 

After  some  little  conversation,  which  treated  solely 
upon  Merrimount's  visit  to  Canada,  Wallis  suggested 
that,  as  darkness  fell  early  at  that  time  of  year,  they 
should  be  off  on  their  excursion.  Taking  possession 
of  the  young  Englishman's  arm  without  giving  lnrn  a 
choice  as  to  which  of  the  ladies  he  would  offer  it,  an 
act,  however,  which  seemed  to  be  entirely  agreeable  to 
the  young  nobleman,  she  led  him  away,  and  by  quick 
ening  her  own  step  compelled  him  to  walk  rapidly. 
She  was  thus  making  good  her  promise  to  Dick  that 
she  would  be  his  good  ally.  Perceiving  her  pur 
pose,  Dick  moved  along  at  a  correspondingly  slow  pace. 
Thus  he  was  enabled  to  secure  the  interview  he  had  so 
long  and  so  fruitlessly  sought  for.  And  having  ob 
tained  it,  he  did  not  waste  his  precious  moments. 


A  BURST  OF  SUNSHINE,  259 

"Ever  since  I  received  your  note,"  he  said,  "I 
have  been  in  a  state  of  suspense  quite  hard  to  bear. 
You  promised  you  would  explain  its  meaning,  but  an 
opportunity  has  not  presented  itself  until  now." 

"I  fear  I  made  a  mistake  in  writing  that  letter,"  re 
plied  Bessie  hesitatingly,  as  they  walked  across  the 
lawn.  "It  was  written  upon  the  impulse  of  the  mo 
ment,  and  I  now  doubt  whether  the  occasion  for  its 
writing  ever  really  existed.  I  feared  at  the  time  you 
would  be  subjected  to  some  embarrassment,  perhaps 
humiliation,  and  I  sought  to  save  you  from  it." 

"I  thank  you  for  the  intent  and  the  kindness  which 
dictated  it,"  replied  Dick,  "but  I  imagine  the  cause 
has  not  yet  passed  away." 

Bessie  looked  up  at  him  quickly,  a  slight  blush 
spreading  over  her  face  as  she  said  hastily,  a  note  of 
alarm  in  her  tones: 

"Why,  you  do  not  know  what  it  was!" 

"I  think  there  must  be  some  Yankee  blood  in  my 
veins,"  laughed  Dick  lightly,  "I  am  a  good  guesser. 
Your  father  forbade  me  the  house." 

His  abrupt  center  shot  startled  and  confused  Bessie. 
She  did  not  reply  but  walked  on,  her  head  bent  to  the 
ground. 

"I  see  I  have  struck  the  truth,"  continued  Dick. 

"Not  quite,"  said  Bessie,  in  alow  voice,  "he  did 
not  forbid  you  the  house." 

"Only  threatened  to?"  he  asked. 

"He  did  not  mean  it,"  admitted  Bessie,  uncon 
scious  of  the  admission.  "He  was  quite  angry  at  the 
time.  I  had  made  him  so,  and  I  think  he  regretted  it 
as  soon  as  he  made  the  threat.  You  know  that,  with 
in  two  or  three  days  after,  he  especially  requested  you 
to  come  to  the  house." 

"And  you  were  afraid  that  I  would  refuse,"  laughed 
Dick;  "but  then  the  request  was  to  a  conference  and 
not  as  a  guest.  However,  we  will  not  discuss  it  further. 
Only  let  me  tell  you  how  grateful  I  am  and  what  assur 
ance  it  gives  me  to  find  that  whether  or  not  I  am  to  be 


260  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

subjected  to  humiliation  is  a  matter  of  such  concern  to 
you  that  you  could  seek  to  save  me  from  it." 

This  was  coming  to  rather  closer  quarters  than  Bes 
sie  desired.  Perhaps  it  is  not  correct  to  say  that  she 
did  not  desire  it,  but,  nevertheless,  she  recognized 
something  in  Dick's  tone  and  manner  which  made  her 
believe  that,  now  the  opportunity  presented  itself,  he 
was  not  disposed  to  let  it  pass  by  without  bringing  mat 
ters  to  an  issue  between  them.  .  From  this  she  shrank, 
more  perhaps  by  reason  of  her  maidenly  modesty  than 
from  an  intention  to  deny  him.  Dick  grew  bolder 
as  he  went  on. 

"Miss  Hetlow — Bessie — I  will  not  pretend  that  I 
do  not  comprehend  what  lay  back  of  that  note.  But 
whatever  it  was  it  cannot  prevent  me  now,  no  matter 
what  may  be  the  attitude  of  your  father  toward  me — 
and  nothing  compels  me  to  ask  or  to  seek  to  learn — 
from  asking  to  know  how  it  stands  with  me.  You  are 
under  no  doubt  as  to  the  state  of  my  feelings  with 
regard  to  you.  On  that  day  by  the  riverside  when  my 
passion — love  for  you — broke  its  bounds,  I  told  you 
how  deep  and  unconquerable  it  was.  And  when  you 
averted  your  face  from  me  and  I  believed  your  heart 
was  cold,  and  crushed  and  stricken  I  left  you,  it  was 
with  the  promise  to  myself,  expressed  to  you  in  words, 
that  I  would  seek  you  again  and  tell  you  of  it.  The 
time  is  here;  I  do  tell  you  of  it.  I  tell  you  that  that 
love  possesses  me — that  it  is  deep,  enduring,  and  un 
conquerable.  I  could  not  control  it  if  I  would.  I 
know  that  I  am  bringing  all  my  fortunes — nay,  my  life 
and  my  future,  to  the  test.  And  I  know  that  having 
done  so,  if  you  are  to  say  me  nay,  all  the  joy,  all  the 
purpose  of  my  life  will  be  taken  from  me.  I  cannot 
recollect  the  time  since  you  were  a  little  girl,  not  more 
than  a  babe,  and  I  but  a  boy,  when  I  did  not  love  you. 
To  grow,  to  work,  to  make  myself  worthy  of  the  time 
when  I  could  lay  my  heart  and  myself  at  your  feet  has 
been  the  incentive  of  all  these  years.  Well,  the  time 


A  BURST  OF  SUNSHINE.  z6l 

is  here.  I  go  to  the  test.  I  am  not  so  worthy  as  in 
those  boyish  dreams  I  promised  myself  I  should  be,  but 
here  I  am  before  you,  pleading,  ready  to  accept  what 
may  follow,  seeing  hope,  brightness,  happiness  in  the 
one  event;  despair,  darkness,  and  a  life  before  me 
from  which  the  light  is  quenched,  in  the  other." 

They  were  moving  slowly  across  the  grass  as  Dick 
talked,  his  voice  trembling  with  the  intensity  of  his 
passion,  and  Bessie  with  her  cheeks  aflame.  Her  eyes 
were  cast  upon  the  ground  and  Dick's  head  bent  for 
ward  toward  her  in  an  anxious  endeavor  to  discover 
the  effect  his  words  were  producing.  Trembling  so 
much  that  she  did  not  dare  trust  herself  to  speak,  and 
indeed  not  knowing  what  reply  to  make,  were  she  to 
give  herself  tongue,  she  was  silent.  Her  face 
was  not  averted  this  time,  it  had  been  bent  when  he 
began  to  talk  and  she  had  not  lifted  it.  Dick  waited 
for  some  reply,  but  none  being  forthcoming  he  went 
on,  and  this  time  with  some  uncertainty  in  his  tone, 
as  if  he  were  making  great  effort  to  keep  himself 
within  bounds.  When  his  voice  again  fell  upon  her 
ear  there  was  in  it  a  quality  of  pathos  which  touched 
her. 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  "I  cannot  expect  you  to  com 
prehend  what  this  means  to  me.  It  is  life,  it  is  every 
thing."  He  hesitated  a  moment  and  then,  as  if  he 
could  no  longer  control  himself,  he  exclaimed:  "O 
God  !  Have  I  been  living  in  a  fool's  paradise?  Have 
I  been  taking  the  mere  kindness  of  a  womanly  heart 
for  tenderness?  Is  my  life's  dream  at  last  at  an  end?" 

Bessie  lifted  her  head  with  a  quick,  impulsive 
motion  and  turned  her  shining  blue  eyes  upon  him, 
those  eyes  in  which  Dick  saw  not  only  the  tears 
trembling,  but  the  lovelight  dancing.  He  impulsively 
caught  her  hand,  fully  satisfied  and  overwhelmed  with 
joy,  though  she  had  spoken  never  a  word.  Merri- 
mount  and  Wallis  had  now  passed  over  the  brow  of 
the  hill.  They  were  out  of  sight  of  the  house,  but  if 


26*  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

they  had  not  been,  and  if  their  companions  were  still 
in  view,  it  is  doubtful  whether  Dick,  so  suddenly  lifted 
from  the  depths  of  despair,  could  have  restrained  his 
actions.  He  stopped  short,  caught  Bessie  in  his  arms, 
and  impressed  upon  her  lips  that  first  kiss  which  as  he 
had  said  had  been  the  dream  of  his  life.  And  the 
truth  compels  the  statement  that  Bessie  made  no  effort 
to  escape  from  the  embrace,  at  least,  not  for  some 
moments.  They  stood  for  some  time,  both  of  them 
giving  themselves  up  to  the  delirious  joy  of  love  de 
clared  and  love  reciprocated.  It  was  Bessie  who  first 
recovered  possession  of  her  senses,  and  who  brought 
them  both  down  from  the  clouds  in  which  they  had 
been  floating. 

"This  is  not  the  way  I  intended  it  should  be,"  she 
said,  laughing  almost  hysterically.  "We  have  begun 
at  the  wrong  end.  I  meant  to  have  told  you  what 
occurred  between  my  father  and  myself,  but  you  did 
not  give  me  time  to  do  so." 

"It  matters  little  now,"  cried  Dick  valiantly,  "since 
I  know  that  you  love  me  I  care  not  what  he  thinks  or 
says." 

"But  I  have  not  told  you  I  love  you,"  replied  Bes 
sie,  demurely  and  mischievously. 

"Not  in  words,  to  be  sure,  but  in  the  most  eloquent 
of  ways,  by  eyes  beaming  and  face  glorified,"  replied 
Dick  earnestly  and  irrationally,  growing  maudlin  in  his 
joy,  "but  no  matter  what  your  father  may  say,  or 
think,  or  do,  crowned  with  your  love  I  am  strong 
enough  to  battle  a  regiment  of  opposing  fathers, 
though  they  all  deny  me  the  house  and  forbid  inter 
course  with  the  daughter." 

"He  did  neither  one  nor  the  other,"  she  replied. 
"I  will  tell  you  all,  which  I  ought  to  have  done  at 
first,  though  I  don't  see  when  I  think  of  it  how  I  could 
have  done  so,  but  that  day  when  we  came  over  to 
Springhill  and  you  were  playing  at  tennis,  Mrs.  Stan- 
ton  told  father  that  you  had — well,  that  you  did  not 


A  BURST  OF  SUNSHINE.  263 

dislike  me,  and  when  father  called  me  from  the  game 
and  made  me  go  back  with  him  he  asked  me  if  that 
were  so  and  I  was  not  satisfactory,  and  so  he  asked 
me  if  I — loved  you " 

Bessie  hesitated.  The  eager  Dick  could  not  wait 
for  her  to  go  on  and  said : 

"And  you  told  him  of  course  that  you  did  not." 

"No,  I  did  not  tell  him  that,"  answered  Bessie, 
lifting  beaming  eyes  to  him  shyly,  "I  could  not  tell 
him  that."  Her  words  came  slowly  and  hesitatingly 
now,  but  after  some  struggle  with  her  modesty  she 
went  on:  "I  told  him  that  if  you  were  to  pay  me  that 
highest  compliment  a  man  can  pay  a  woman,  and 
should  ask  me  to  be  wife  to  you,  I  should  say  yes." 

It  is  well  they  were  in  the  shrubbery  and  out  of 
sight. 

When  Dick  released  her  again,  she  looked  up  at 
him  with  burning  cheeks  and  a  merry  twinkle  in  her 
eye:  "But,"  she  said,  "I  was  safe  in  doing  so,  for 
you  see  you  have  not  asked  me,  and  so  father  was  not 
in  such  danger  after  all." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Dick  determined  immedi 
ately  to  put  her  father  in  all  possible  danger,  and  to 
the  question  Bessie  replied  softly  that  she  would  be, 
out  that  she  would  not  marry  him  until  her  father 
gave  his  consent  or,  she  added  by  way  of  amendment, 
until  he  had  been  given  ample  opportunity  to  consent. 

By  this  time  Wallis  was  evidently  of  the  belief  that 
Dick  had  been  given  all  the  time  he  was  entitled  to, 
for  her  voice  was  heard  calling  to  them.  They  now 
hastened  on.  But  Wallis,  had  a  purpose  other  than  put 
ting  an  end  to  the  interview  she  had  promised  Dick, 
and  was  seeking  on  her  own  account  a  diversion. 

Certain  events  which  had  occurred  had  proved  Bes 
sie  to  be  a  prophet. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

IN    IMMINENT    PERIL. 

WHILE  Bessie  and  Dick  Avere  thus  engaged,  as  de 
scribed  in  the  previous  chapter,  Lord  Merrimount  had 
been  telling  Wallis  of  his  excursion  into  Canada,  and 
had  been  saying  that,  notwithstanding  he  had  met  a 
number  of  friends  from  the  other  side,  he  had  found 
Canada  very  dull;  that  he  was  very  glad  to  return  and 
he  was  astonished  to  find  how  attached  he  had  become 
to  "The  Larches"  and  the  people  about  it.  And  he 
concluded  by  saying  that  the  desire  to  see  them  all 
again  had  been  the  chief  reason  for  cutting  his  trip  so 
short. 

"And  I  think,"  he  said,  looking  down  upon  Wallis 
with  an  expression  in  his  eyes  she  had  never  before 
noticed,  "and  I  think  the  chief  desire  was  really  to  see 
again  a  single  person." 

Wallis  looked  at  him  quickly  and  sharply,  and,  with 
a  little  trace  of  sarcasm  in  her  tone,  replied: 

"Indeed,  the  single  person  so  favored  ought  to  be 
flattered." 

"I  don't  want  her  to  feel  flattered,"  returned  Mer 
rimount.  "If  she  will  accept  the  statement  in  the 
sense  I  intend  it,  I  will  be  only  too  well  pleased." 

"Oh,  it  is  a  she  then,"  answered  Wallis.  "Please 
don't  give  me  your  confidence  on  the  matter.  I  have 
been  standing  the  guardian  angel  over  one  love  affair 
for  the  past  few  weeks,  and  I  don't  want  another  on 
my  hands." 

Merrimount,  looking  upon  her  as  a  smile  played 
about  his  lips  and  an  increase  of  tenderness  came  into 
his  tone,  remarked : 

264 


IN  IMMINENT  PERIL.  263 

"Perhaps  you  might  be  induced  to  assume  a  differ 
ent  position  in  this  affair." 

Wallis  noticed  both  the  increase  of  tenderness  of 
tone  and  the  significance  of  his  words.  Alarmed  and 
annoyed,  she  replied,  and  this  time  with  some  asperity 
in  her  tone : 

"Now  don't  be  foolish,  Lord  Merrimount,  and 
spoil  good  friendship  by  trying  to  be  gallant.  You 
are  much  more  endurable  when  you  are  simply  an 
English  gentleman." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  regard  me  as  anything  else," 
he  replied  very  soberly.  "I  am  both  earnest  and 
truthful  when  I  tell  you  that  it  was  a  charming  little 
person,  with  a  ready  tongue  and  bright  eyes,  who  was 
the  chief  cause  of  my  quick  return.  I  never  knew 
until  I  had  gone  a\vay  how  much  her  companionship 
was  to  me." 

By  this  time  they  had  left  Bessie  and  Dick  far 
behind  and  reached  the  roof  of  the  tunnel.  Wallis 
cast  a  swift  upward  glance  at  him;  encountering  his 
dark  brown  tyes  keenly  scrutinizing  her,  she  suddenly 
left  his  side  and  walked  hastily  to  the  platform  from 
which  she  could  look  down  upon  the  railroad  tracks 
below.  Merrimount  followed  her  and  taking  place 
beside  her  laid  his  hand  upon  hers  as  it  rested  upon 
the  rail.  He  said  kindly  and  indeed  earnestly: 

"Do  not  misunderstand  me.  I  am  very  much  in 
earnest.  Regarding  you  as  I  do,  the  last  thing  I 
should  attempt  to  do  would  be  to  trifle  with  you!  I 
am  in  no  trifling  mood.  During  all  my  journey,  when 
my  face  was  turned  in  this  direction,  I  thought  of  little 
else  than  the  approaching  time  when  I  could  say  these 
things  to  you  and " 

"Stop!"  cried  Wallis,  interrupting  him  and  drawing 
her  hand  hastily  from  under  his,  as  she  turned  upon 
him  sharply  and  squarely,  her  eyes  flashing  and  her 
face  suffused. 

'  'You  have  no  right  to  say  these  things  to  me.   Surely 


266  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

you  have  seen  nothing  in  my  conduct  justifying  you 
in  the  belief  that  I  would  listen  to  anything  of  this 
kind.  I  have  accepted  you  as  the  guest  of  our  neigh 
bor,  and  had  begun  to  treat  you  as  a  friend.  I  do  not 
know  why  you  should  seek  to  deliberately  affront  me." 

"It  is  no  affront  for  a  man  to  say  to  the  woman  he 
loves,  that  he  does  so  love  her,"  returned  Merri- 
mount.  "The  woman  may  not  return  that  love,  but 
whether  she  accepts  it  or  not  she  cannot  say  there  is 
an  affront  in  the  telling." 

"It  is  an  affront,"  replied  Wallis  hotly,  "when  the 
man,  coming  with  the  avowed  intention  of  marrying 
another  girl,  thinks  he  can,  while  waiting  for  the  fav 
orable  issue  of  one  suit,  induce  the  friend  of  that  girl 
to  listen  to  him  when  she  is  not  by." 

The  young  Englishman  was  amazed.  Drawing 
himself  up  coldly,  he  said  sternly:  "You  mystify  me. 
You  have  made  a  charge  which  you  must  explain." 

Wallis  was  not  to  be  awed  by  his  manner.  She  re 
plied  to  him  with  even  more  indignation: 

"You  shall  have  the  explanation,  and  my  opinion  as 
well.  You  came  to  this  country  with  the  proposition 
to  Mr.  Hetlow  to  marry  his  daughter,  provided  she  was 
indeed  the  heir  to  the  Dugdale  estate.  And  you  have 
been  waiting  before  making  your  suit  to  Bessie,  to 
learn  whether  or  not  Harold  Pierson  was  the  heir,  or 
whether  Bessie  would  not  in  the  end  inherit  those 
millions.  And  if  you  desire  it,  you  may  have  my 
opinion  of  the  cold-hearted  calculation  of  such  a 
course.  Even  in  practical  America,  where  we  are  all 
tradesmen,  we  stop  in  our  pursuit  of  dollars  to  infuse 
a  little  warmth  and  a  little  love-making  into  our  mar 
riage.  But  I  don't  want  to  criticise  you,  yet  I  do 
want  you  to  understand  that  while  you  are  thus  wait 
ing  for  one  affair  to  end,  you  cannot  amuse  yourself 
with  me." 

As  Wallis  talked  she  grew  more  angry,  because  she 
saw  the  expression  of  wonder  and  amazement  chased 


IN  IMMINENT  PERIL.  267 

from  the  face  of  the  young  Englishman  by  one  of 
intense  amusement.  When  she  had  concluded,  she 
looked  him  fully  in  the  eyes,  and  was  not  unconscious 
of  the  look  of  deep  admiration  with  which  he  was 
regarding  her.  So  angry  was  she  on  perceiving  this, 
that  she  turned  to  go  from  him,  but  was  detained  by 
his  next  speech. 

"One  moment,"  he  said.  "You  have  made  your 
explanation  and  I  thank  you."  He  bowed  to  her  in 
his  most  courtly  manner.  "Let  me  make  my  answer 
now.  I  did  not  come  here  as  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of 
Miss  Bessie.  I  never  made  such  a  proposition  to  Mr. 
Hetlow,  I  never  dreamed  that  anyone  would  suppose 
or  did  suppose  that  such  was  the  purpose  of  my  visit. 
It  never  occurred  to  me  that  anyone  could  think  so." 

"Why  persist  in  such  folly?"  cried  Wallis  indig 
nantly.  "I  am  very  young,  I  know,  but  that  fact 
should  entitle  me  to  the  forbearance  of  a  man  of  the 
world." 

"You  need  forbearance  for  something  else,"  replied 
Merrimount  quietly.  "You  are  very  irritating,  but 
also  very  charming."  Wallis  gave  an  indignant  toss 
of  her  head. 

"Did  not  Mr.  Mason  hear  you  make  such  a  propo 
sition  to  Mr.  Hetlow?" 

"No,"  said  Merrimount  slowly,  "he  did  not.  Mr. 
Mason  may  have  overheard,  and  I  think  he  did,  the 
concluding  portion  of  a  conversation  relating  to  a 
proposition  I  submitted  to  Mr.  Hetlow.  But  it  had 
nothing  to  do  with  marrying  or  with  proposing  to 
marry." 

Wallis  looked  upon  him  with  deep  incredulity. 
Smiling  over  it  the  young  nobleman  went  on: 

"I  see  that  you  are  under  a  very  grave  misappre 
hension,"  he  laughed.  "Be  patient  with  me,  and  I 
will  tell  you.  My  father,  the  Duke  of  Mountchessing- 
ton  is  much  embarrassed.  The  revenues  of  the  estates 
have  been  greatly  reduced,  and  portions  of  them  must 


268  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

be  sacrificed  unless  some  other  source  of  revenue  can 
be  obtained.  So,  when  Mr.  Dugdale  died,  and  it  was 
believed  by  the  solicitor  that  the  estate  would  pass  into 
the  hands  of  a  young  girl  who  would  have  no  wish  to 
conduct,  or  continue  the  wool  business,  it  was  pro 
posed,  by  that  solicitor,  that  I  should  proceed  imme 
diately  to  America  with  an  offer  from  my  father  to 
purchase  as  large  an  interest  in  that  business  as  the 
duke  could  buy,  and  that  I  should  begin  a  career  as  a 
woo)  merchant.  When  I  reached  here  I  found  that 
Mr.  Hetlow  was  engaged  in  a  search  for  the  son  of 
Edmund  Dugdale,  with  a  prospect  of  finding  him, 
who,  if  found,  would  become  the  heir.  Because  of 
this  Mr.  Hetlow  said  it  would  be  useless  to  consider 
the  duke's  proposition,  and  he  kindly  invited  me  to 
remain  here  a  guest,  until  such  time  as  this  search 
might  result  in  something  definite." 

Wallis  was  covered  with  confusion.  All  her  anger 
and  indignation  faded  away  as  she  realized  how  they 
had  all  been  misled. 

"What  a  lot  of  fools  we  have  all  been,"  she  ex 
claimed. 

The  young  nobleman  laughed  aloud  at  her  confu 
sion,  enjoying  the  joke  hugely,  now  that  he  appre 
ciated  from  Wallis's  words  how  his  errand  to  America 
had  been  misapprehended. 

"Miss  Hetlow  would  indeed  be  inducement  for  any 
man  to  cross  the  water  as  her  suitor,"  he  said.  "But 
as  attractive  as  she  may  be,  there  is  one  who  is  still 
more  attractive  to  me." 

Wallis's  cheeks  were  covered  with  blushes.  The 
spirit  with  which  she  had  faced  the  young  Englishman 
had  fled,  and  she  was  seeking  somewhere  to  place  her 
eyes  where  they  would  not  encounter  those  dark  kindly 
ones  of  Merrimount  resolutely  determined  to  find  hers. 

"Well,"  he  went  on,  after  a  moment  or  two,  "have 
I  not  earned  the  right  to  say  these  things  to  you?" 
Wallis  could  not  reply.  All  her  readiness  was  gone. 
For  a  brief  and  insane  moment,  she  contemplated  a 


Iff  IMMINENT  PERIL.  369 

leap  over  the  rail  to  the  rocks  below.  A  train  thun 
dering  out  of  the  tunnel,  with  a  screaming  whistle,  put 
an  end  to  the  idea  and  gave  her,  while  its  noise  lasted, 
an  opportunity  to  repossess  herself.  Merrimount, 
finding  that  he  had  obtained  an  advantage,  pursued  it. 

"I  have  not  affronted  you,  have  I?"  he  asked,  smil 
ing  tenderly  upon  her. 

"No,"  Wallis  replied,  but  in  such  low  accents  that 
he  could  but  barely  hear  her. 

"And  I  do  have  the  right  to  say  to  you  that  I  love 
you  and  that  almost  from  the  beginning  I  have  loved 
you?"  He  looked  to  her  for  some  response,  but  none 
was  made.  "It  is  true,"  he  went  on,  "I  did  not 
know  how  deeply  I  did  love  you  until  after  I  had 
parted  from  you  and  realized  how  much  I  missed  your 
bright  presence.  And  then  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
come  back  so  that  I  could  tell  you  of  it." 

Still  Wallis  could  not  find  that  tongue  usually  so 
ready  with  sharp  retort  and  quaint  conceit.  She  had 
been  humbled  too  much  in  her  own  estimation  to 
recover  quickly,  and  was  too  busy  with  thinking  how 
absurd  she  had  been  in  thus  presuming  to  lecture  the 
man,  who  was  so  earnestly  pleading  his  own  cause  with 
her,  for  something  of  which  he  was  not  guilty.  She 
was  not  then,  by  any  means,  the  frolicsome  sprite. 
Though  she  would  not  answer,  Merrimount  guessed 
why,  and  was  determined  that  he  would  not  let  her 
escape. 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  my  suit  finds  no  favor 
with  you?  Or  may  I  take  silence  for  the  consent  I  so 
much  desire?" 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no!"  cried  Wallis  hastily,  refusing  to 
be  carried  away  in  so  summary  a  manner. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  he  persisted,  "that  you 
have  no  regard  for  me?" 

"No,  I  do  not  mean  that,"  replied  Wallis,  looking 
first  on  one  side  and  then  the  other  for  a  way  to  escape. 

"Then  you  do  like  me?" 

"No — yes. — oh,  I  don't  know  what  I  mean,"  cried 


270  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Wallis  irritably,  angry  with  herself  that  she  was  not 
under  better  control. 

"Then  let  me  tell  you,"  said  Merrimount,  posses 
sing  himself  of  her  hand  again.  "Let  me  speak  for 
you,  as  I  want  you  to  speak.  Let  me  say  that  you  do, 
and  let  me  make  you  Lady  Merrimount." 

Wallis  stole  a  glance  at  him  from  under  her  dark 
lashes  and  saw  the  deep,  earnest  love  shining  in  his 
eyes.  She  knew  that  he  was  sincere,  and  she  was 
touched  by  his  simple  and  unaffected  pleading.  She 
did  not  take  her  hand  from  him,  although  she  sud 
denly  came  into  self-possession. 

"This  has  been  so  unexpected,"  she  said,  "that  I 
do  not  know  what  to  reply.  I  am  so  confused  by  my 
blunder  and  by  my  presumption  in  lecturing  you — and 
I  have  been  so  mistaken  and  have  done  you  such  wrong 
that  I  can't  think.  You  know  I  never  thought  of 
this.  I  always  thought  you  meant  to  marry  Bessie  if 
she"  had  the  money.  I  do  like  you,  but  I  liked  you  as 
a  friend  and  I  wanted  to  like  you,  if  you  were  going 
to  be  the  husband  of  my  dear  friend.  But  you  see  I 
don't  know." 

She  withdrew  her  hand  not  unkindly,  and  walked 
away  a  step  or  two.  Merrimount  followed  her. 

"Then  I  will  not  press  my  suit  to-night,"  he  said 
tenderly,  "but  I  will  not  deny  myself  hope.  I  will 
come  again  and  again  to  you  until  I  get  my  answer." 

"But  I  am  so  poor!"  cried  Wallis. 

"So  am  I,"  laughed  Merrimount.  "I  have  only  a 
beggarly  thousand.  But  you  know  I  am  going  into 
trade,  so  I  can  make  enough." 

"And  I  said  I'd  never  marry  a  poor  man,"  said 
Wallis,  looking  up  at  him  with  a  laugh. 

Then  she  ran  away  from  him  and  called  for  Bessie. 
Her  call  had  interrupted  the  love-making  of  the  others, 
and  they  came  to  her  quite  hurriedly — indeed  quite 
shamefacedly — but  Merrimount  and  Wallis  were  too 
much  interested  in  their  own  affairs  to  notice  acutely 
the  manner  of  the  others. 


IN  IMMINENT  PERIL.  271 

"You  have  loitered  so  long,"  said  Wallis,  endeavor 
ing  to  conceal  her  own  confusion,  "and  it  is  growing 
so  late,  I  fear  we  cannot  go  on  the  water." 

"Oh,  yes,  we  can,"  interposed  Merrimount.  "If  it 
is  only  for  a  short  pull." 

"Well,  then,  let  us  go  at  once,"  said  Wallis,  walking 
off  in  the  direction  of  the  steps  with  Merrimount. 

"But,  Bessie,"  suddenly  cried  Dick,  "you  have  no 
wrap  with  you.  You  cannot  go  on  the  river  without 
one." 

"I  left  it  on  the  veranda,"  replied  Bessie,  "but 
never  mind.  I  will  not  need  it." 

"But  indeed  you  will,"  persisted  Dick;  "go  on  with 
Merrimount  and  Wallis,  and  I  will  run  back  to  the 
house  for  it." 

Before  Bessie  could  interpose  an  objection,  he  was 
off  and  away.  She  therefore  joined  the  other  two,  and 
*ogether  the  three  descended  the  steps  that  led  to  the 
water's  edge. 

The  boat  was  in  readiness  for  them  at  the  beach, 
and  in  charge  of  the  man  who  was  the  one  Dick  had 
supposed  he  had  seen  more  than  once  in  the  compan 
ionship  of  Ransom.  He  got  up  from  the  stone  upon 
which  he  was  sitting  and,  taking  off  his  cap,  said  to 
Bessie:  "Am  I  to  go  with  you?" 

Bessie  told  him  that  the  gentlemen  would  row. 
Saying  that  he  would  be  back  to  take  care  of  the  boat 
when  they  returned,  the  man  walked  away  up  the 
shore.  Wallis  had  wandered  to  the  rocks  in  the 
direction  of  the  railroad  track,  and  was  now  descend 
ing  to  the  level  of  the  track  itself.  Merrimount  called 
the  warning  after  her,  that  she  might  find  some  cars  on 
the  line,  as  he  termed  it.  By  this  time  she  had 
reached  the  tracks,  and  she  called  back  for  Bessie  and 
Merrimount  to  come  down,  that  she  had  a  sight  to 
show  them. 

Bessie  and  the  young  nobleman  followed  her.  She 
pointed  out  to  them  the  headlight  of  a  locomotive  just 
entering  the  other  end  of  the  tunnel.  It  was  running 


2? 2  THE  DUGbALE  MILLIONS. 

with  considerable  rapidity,  and  the  three  standing  upon, 
the  track  watched  the  light  growing  larger  and  larger 
as  it  approached. 

While  they  were  thus  occupied  they  heard  a  shout, 
and  looking  up  they  saw  Dick  on  the  roof  of  the  tun 
nel,  at  that  point  where  it  was  guarded  by  a  rail, 
struggling  with  two  men.  For  a  moment  the  three  did 
not  realize  what  the  struggle  meant.  Soon,  to  their 
horror,  they  discovered  that  the  two  men  were  endeav 
oring  to  thrust  Dick  over  the  precipice.  Immediately 
that  Lord  Merrimount  realized  what  they  were  trying 
to  do,  he  shouted  to  Dick: 

"Fight  the  beggars  hard.     I  am  coming  to  you!" 

With  this  he  rapidly  began  the  ascent  of  the  rocks, 
not  waiting  to  take  the  easier  but  longer  means  of  the 
stairs. 

Dick  was  making  a  gallant  struggle  with  the  two 
men.  He  was  holding  his  own,  though  his  assailants 
redoubled  their  efforts  when  they  saw  Merrimount 
climbing  rapidly  to  his  assistance. 

Horror-stricken,  and  Bessie  almost  frantic  in  her 
fear,  the  two  girls  watched  from  below  the  varying 
chances  of  the  unequal  struggle  above.  The  train  in 
the  tunnel  was  approaching  them,  its  thundering  noise 
falling  more  loudly  upon  their  ears.  They  heeded  it 
not,  so  intently  were  they  watching  Dick's  fierce 
struggle  for  life. 

Merrimount  had  climbed  two-thirds  of  the  distance, 
and  was  rapidly  gaining  the  top,  when  a  third  man 
appeared  and  threw  himself  upon  Dick.  Against  him 
Dick  could  not  prevail.  Inch  by  inch  the  three  forced 
him  to  the  edge  of  the  rocks.  Wallis  screamed  as  she 
perceived  that  Dick  was  lost,  but  Bessie,  in  whom  the 
blood  had  ceased  to  flow  as  she  saw  the  lover,  who  but 
a  brief  half  hour  previous  had  imprinted  his  first  kiss 
upon  her  lips,  surely  forced  to  his  death,  could  utter 
neither  moan  nor  shriek.  The  agony  of  years  was 
crowded  into  a  brief  moment.  She  was  conscious  of 


IN  IMMINENT    PERIL  273 

nothing,  but  that  the  man  to  whom  she  had  given  all 
the  love  of  her  soul  was  being  murdered  in  her  sight — 
the  man  for  whom  she  would  have  gladly  yielded  up 
her  own  life,  but  for  whom  she  could  do  nothing. 
The  struggle  lasted  but  an  instant  and  Dick  toppled 
over.  Lord  Merrimount  saw  him  fall,  and  cried  out: 

"O  God,  he's  gone!" 

At  the  same  moment  the  wild,  warning  screech  of 
the  approaching  train  reached  his  ears. 

A  new  horror ! 

Wallis  and  Bessie  were  on  the  track,  unconscious  of 
its  coming.  Clinging  desperately  to  the  trees  by  which 
he  was  climbing,  he  yelled  to  Wallis  and  Bessie  to  get 
off  the  track. 

Wallis  heard  him  and,  realizing  her  own  danger,  tried 
to  drag  Bessie  from  it.  But  Bessie,  with  her  eyes 
riveted  upon  Dick,  possessed  by  the  horror  of  the 
scene,  paid  no  attention.  She  was  rooted  to  the 
ground. 

As  Dick  was  overcome,  he  had  fallen  only  a  few  feet 
when  he  caught  a  small  bush  with  both  hands,  thus 
arresting  his  fall.  The  bush,  however,  gave  away 
with  his  weight  and  Bessie,  who  had  one  wild  and 
delirious  moment  of  joy,  as  she  saw  his  fall  arrested, 
was  filled  with  horror  a  second  time  as  she  saw  the 
bush  torn  out  by  its  roots,  and  Dick  again  plunged 
downward. 

He  struck  a  projecting  ledge  and  caught  again. 
The  rock  crumbling  under  his  hands,  he  slipped  down 
to  another  projection  where,  for  a  moment,  he  secured 
another  hold,  only  to  find  it  broken  under  his  hands, 
and  to  be  precipitated  downward  again. 

Bessie,  who  had  been  passing  rapidly  through  the 
alternations  of  joy  and  despair,  shrieked  aloud,  but 
changed  her  shrieks  to  heartfelt  thanks  to  God,  as  she 
saw  him  finally  and  securely  clutch  a  small  but  stout 
hemlock. 

This  time  indeed  he  had  secured  a  firm  hold,  but  it 


*74  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIOXS. 

was  by  his  hands  alone.  His  feet  were  dangling  over 
the  open  cut  of  the  tunnel,  twenty  feet  from  the 
ground. 

A  new  danger  presented  itself! 

Now  Bessie  became  keenly  aware  of  the  approach 
of  the  train.  She  did  not  know  that  the  alert  engineer 
of  the  approaching  locomotive  had  seen  her  upon  the 
track  and  was  reversing  his  engine.  All  she  did  see 
was  that  Dick,  who  had  gallantly  struggled  for  his  life 
on  the  top  of  the  roof,  and  had  not  lost  his  head  when 
falling,  but  had  endeavored  manfully  to  seize  every 
advantage,  was  now  in  imminent  danger  of  being 
struck  by  the  stack  of  the  locomotive,  as  it  issued 
from  the  tunnel. 

She  screamed  aloud.  She  frantically  cried  to  Dick 
tc  make  him  aware  of  his  danger.  She  could  not 
make  him  understand. 

With  a  wild  scream  she  rushed  from  the  track,  hast 
ily  climbed  the  rock  in  the  path  of  Merrimount,  who 
was  now  as  rapidly  descending,  and,  without  regard 
for  her  soft  white  hands,  climbed  with  all  the  energy 
of  desperation,  and  reached  a  point  nearest  to  Dick's 
dangling  feet.  At  the  risk  of  being  dashed  to  the 
ground  beneath,  she  reached  forward  and  caught  his 
feet,  pulling  them  as  far  toward  her  as  her  strength, 
that  of  a  giant  in  her  excitement,  would  permit  her. 

At  this  moment  Merrimount  reached  her,  and  throw* 
ing  himself  on  his  face,  until  more  than  half  his  body 
projected  over  the  rocks,  grasped  her  about  the  waist, 
holding  her  securely  while  she  maintained  her  grasp  on 
Dick's  feet.  In  the  instant  the  stack  of  the  locomo 
tive  passed  within  an  inch  of  Dick's  legs,  the  fumes 
and  the  gases  therefrom  almost  stifling  her,  as  it 
passed  under. 

But  now  the  engine  came  to  a  stop,  with  the  roof  of 
the  cab  immediately  under  Dick. 

Merrimount  saw  this  and,  calling  to  Bessie  that  Dick 
was  now  safe,  bade  her  let  go  of  hii  feet,  and  cried  to 


7.V  IMMINENT  PERIL.  27$ 

Dick  to  let  himself  drop  on  to  the  roof  of  the  cab, 
which  he  did,  falling  weak  and  exhausted. 

The  danger  that  Merrirnount  and  Bessie  were  now 
in  was  more  real  than  appeared  from  below. 

Bessie,  while  grasping  Dick's  feet,  had  maintained 
her  hold  by  her  right  hand  clinging  to  a  small  tree. 
When  Merrimount  had  bade  her  let  go  her  hold  on 
Dick,  she  had  obeyed,  and  at  the  same  time  relaxed 
her  grip  upon  the  tree  by  which  she  had  supported 
herself.  The  consequence  was,  she  was  wholly  borne 
up  by  Merrirnount,  who  was  almost  thrown  over  the 
rocks  by  this  additional  weight. 

He  sjioke  to  her  calmly,  telling  her  to  take  hold 
again,  but,  receiving  no  reply,  he  found  that  she  had 
fainted  in  his  arras,  in  that  extraordinary  position. 
The  passengers  had  poured  out  of  the  train,  and  every 
thing  was  confusion  below,  as  Dick  was  lifted  from 
the  cab.  Merrimount  could  not  make  himself  heard 
by  those  beneath,  and  so,  knowing  that  he  must  either 
push  himself  back,  or  finally  succumb  to  the  dead 
weight  of  Bessie's  body,  momentarily  growing  heavier 
and  heavier,  began  a  desperate  effort  to  wriggle  back 
ward  to  a  position  where  he  would  have  a  greater 
leverage. 

He  received  unexpected  assistance.  It  was  Wallis 
who.  perceiving  his  predicament,  when  recovering 
from  the  partial  swoon  inro  which  she  had  been  thrown 
by  fright,  had  come  to  his  assistance,  and  grasping 
him  by  the  ankles  was  puiling  him  backward.  As 
slight  as  the  assistance  was,  it  was  just  sufficient,  and 
in  a  moment  he  was  safe  on  secure  rock  wita  Bessie 
stiil  in  his  arms. 

She  recovered  almost  immediately,  and  their  descent 
to  the  track  was  quickly  accomplished. 

Making  their  way  tc  Dick  they  found  him  standing 
in  a  group  of  curious  people  who  were  endeavoring  to 
tiicit  some  explanation  from  him,  ragged  and  torn, 
>*ith  blood  OQ  ius  face  and  hands,  dazed  by  the  wecka 


276  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

he  had  received.  Singularly,  during  all  his  struggle 
and  his  fall,  Bessie's  wrap,  for  which  he  had  gone  back, 
had  clung  to  him.  He  did  one  of  those  strange  things 
which,  when  misunderstood,  are  called  bravado. 

He  looked  at  Bessie  stupidly,  and  extending  tbr- 
garment  to  her  said  : 

"  Here  is  your  wrap  " 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE   COURSE    OF    TRUE    LOVE. 

THE  excursion  upon  the  river  was  abandoned. 

Lord  Merrimount  led  Dick  away,  as  soon  as  he  was 
permitted  to  escape  from  the  crowd,  anxious  to  know 
the  cause  of  the  excitement,  followed  by  Bessie  and 
Wallis,  still  greatly  agitated  by  the  ordeal  through 
which  they  had  passed.  Though  much  bruised  and 
cut  Dick  recovered  quickly  from  the  dazed  condition 
which  immediately  followed  his  rescue,  and  was  soon 
enabled,  as  they  walked  toward  Springhill,  to  tell 
how  he  had  been  attacked. 

He  told  them  that  as  he  reached  the  roof  of  the 
tunnel,  hurrying  rapidly  with  Bessie's  wrap  thrown 
over  his  shoulder,  two  men  sprang  out  from  behind  a 
clump  of  low  trees,  and  without  word  or  threat  seized 
him  upon  either  side  and  rushed  him  toward  the  edge 
of  the  precipice.  His  surprise  at  this  attack  had  been 
BO  great  that  it  was  not  until  he  was  on  its  very  brink 
that  he  made  effort  to  resist  them.  He  thought  he 
would  have  succeeded  in  his  struggle,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  aid  given  his  assailants  by  a  third  man,  who 
approached  from  behind  and  whose  added  strength 
forced  him  over. 

Notwithstanding  the  nervous  condition  he  was 
naturally  in,  he  did  not  fail  to  note  with  secret  joy 
in  his  heart  that  Bessie  made  no  effort  to  conceal  her 
eir  of  proprietorship  of  him,  though  apparently  it  was 
unnoticed  by  either  Lord  Merrimount  or  Walliss  preter- 
eaturally  sharp  as  the  latter  always  was.  It  is  doubt 
ful  whether  Dick  at  that  time  reasoned  upon  the  matter, 
\i  he  had  it  is  probable  he  would  n&vs  hscri 

877 


2  7$  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

their  failure  to  perceive  this  to  the  absorbing  interest 
in  the  exciting  event  through  which  they  had  all 
passed.  Of  course  he  did  not  know  what  had  passed 
between  Merrimount  and  Wallis  before  he  and  Bessie 
had  come  up  to  them. 

When  they  reached  the  veranda  of  Springhill  Mr. 
Hetlow  came  out  hurriedly  from  the  hall,  followed  by 
Mr.  Stanton.  It  was  now  almost  dark,  but  yet  all 
could  notice  upon  the  face  of  Mr.  Hetlow  an  expres 
sion  of  anger  and  stern  resolve,  and  one  of  anxiety 
upon  that  of  Mr.  Stanton.  Dick's  appearance  quite 
evidently  changed  their  mood  into  one  of  astonished 
curiosity,  and  whatever  it  might  have  been  that  Mr. 
Hetlow  intended  to  say  when  he  came  out  to  meet 
them  was  lost  in  the  desire  to  know  what  had  occurred. 
Bessie  and  Wallis  attempted  to  tell  it  at  the  same 
time,  and  succeeded  only  in  impressing  upon  the 
minds  of  the  two  elderly  gentlemen  that  something 
of  a  horrible  nature  had  occurred,  without  giving  them 
a  very  clear  understanding  as  to  what  it  was.  Finally, 
having  exhausted  themselves,  Lord  Merrimount  said 
to  Mr.  Stanton,  noticing  that  Dick  had  seated  himself 
upon  the  steps  with  the  air  of  one  very  weak  and  in 
great  pain,  that  the  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  take 
Dick  to  his  room  where  he  could  receive  the  attention 
he  needed,  and  he  thought  it  would  be  wise  to  send 
for  a  surgeon  at  once.  While  he  did  not  believe  that 
the  injuries  received  by  Dick  were  of  a  serious  nature, 
nevertheless,  as  a  matter  of  precaution,  an  examination 
ought  to  be  made  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Whereupon  Dick  was  carried  to  his  room  and  made 
comfortable,  while  Mr.  Stanton  dispatched  a  servant 
for  a  physician.  While  he  was  thus  engaged  Merri 
mount  told  in  a  circumstantial  manner  what  had  oc 
curred,  modestly  leaving  himself  and  his  own  achieve 
ments  out  of  the  account,  and  giving  great  praise  to 
the  brave  efforts  of  the  young  ladies.  He  grew  pos 
itively  enthusiastic,  however,  as  he  recounted  the 
gallant  struggle  of  Dick  for  his  life. 


THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE.  279 

When  Mr.  Hetlow  learned  from  Mr.  Stanton  that 
Dick  was  at  Springhill,  and  had  gone  upon  a  rivet 
excursion  with  Bessie  and  the  others,  he  had  insisted 
upon  returning  immediately.  He  had  erroneously 
jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  a  part  of  a  plan 
between  his  daughter  and  Dick  to  get  together — a 
plan  entered  into  surreptitiously  and  without  his 
knowledge.  This  had  made  him  angry  and  he  had 
returned  full  of  wrath,  determined  upon  a  vigorous 
policy,  which  would  leave  neither  his  daughter  nor 
Dick  in  doubt  as  to  his  feelings  upon  the  subject. 
The  event  of  the  night,  however,  had  made  his  pro 
gramme  impossible.  And  when  Mr.  Stanton  returned 
from  Dick's  bedroom,  saying  that  the  latter  expected  to 
be  down  in  a  short  time,  and  began  to  comment  upon 
the  effort  to  take  Dick's  life,  going  to  the  conclusion, 
vigorously  expressed,  that  the  event  could  not  be 
separated  from  the  Harold  Pierson  claim,  Mr.  Hetlow 
was  greatly  troubled. 

He  had  combated  from  the  first  what  he  called  the 
extreme  theories  of  Mr.  Stanton  and  Dick,  but  here 
was  an  overt  act,  for  which  there  seemed  to  be  no 
good  reason  unless  one  was  to  be  found  in  the  ur 
gency  of  the  old  lawyer.  He  had  pointed  out  to  Mr. 
Hetlow  that  Dick  had  been,  from  the  time  of  the  dis 
covery  of  Harold  Pierson,  energetic  in  insisting  upon 
a  strict  examination  into  his  claims,  that  he  had  dis 
covered  the  young  claimant  in  suspicious  surround 
ings,  that  he  had  employed  the  detective  force,  and  had 
been  instrumental  in  seeking  out  Mrs.  Jenkins,  and 
had  only  recently  returned  from  a  journey  to  Phila 
delphia  where  he  had  been  preceded  by  Moore  on  pre 
cisely  the  same  errand,  all  of  which  was  undoubtedly 
known  to  these  men  whom  Mr.  Stanton  now  called 
boldly  the  conspirators. 

Mr.  Stanton  was  very  much  in  earnest,  not  to  say 
excited,  and  he  delivered  his  arguments  and  piled  up 
his  evidence  with  such  vigor  that  Mr.  Hetlow  vvas  over 
borne  and  made  no  attempt  to  answer.  Indeed  he 


aSo  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

was  much  agitated  over  the  idea  that  Dick,  who  had 
engaged  in  this  work  through  no  desire  of  his  own, 
but  at  his  employer's  solicitation,  should  have  been 
injured  and  put  into  such  imminent  peril  of  his  life  in 
his  service.  Therefore  he  did  not  reply,  although  he 
by  no  means  acquiesced  in  all  the  old  lawyer  in 
sisted  upon. 

The  surgeon  soon  arrived,  and  Bessie  and  Mr.  Het- 
low  waited  for  his  report.  Perhaps  a  half  an  hour 
passed,  during  which  time  the  party  on  the  veranda 
discussed  the  attempt,  before  the  physician  descended 
the  stairs.  When  he  did  so  Dick  accompanied  him. 

The  surgeon's  report  was  that  no  bones  had  been 
broken  ;  that  he  did  not  believe  Dick  had  sustained 
any  serious  internal  injuries  ;  but  that  he  naturally 
had  been  much  bruised,  and  had  received  several 
contusions  which  would  give  him  some  trouble  for  a 
time,  and  that  for  several  days  he  would  be  sore  and 
stiff.  But  that  which  he  thought  was  most  serious 
was  the  nervous  shock  which  he  had  sustained,  and 
he  advised  quiet  and  rest  for  a  time,  and  said  upon 
his  return  to  the  village  he  would  send  him  some 
medicines  which  he  thought  would  help  him  to  a 
speedy  recovery.  Mr.  Stanton  thereupon  emphatic 
ally  said  that  Springhill  was  the  place  for  that  rest 
and  quiet,  and  that  Dick  must  remain  there  until 
recovered. 

Thereupon,  expressing  the  hope  that  nothing  seri- 
ious  would  result,  Mr.  Hetlow  proposed  to  return  to 
"  The  Larches."  Bessie  rose  to  accompany  him,  and 
cast  upon  Dick  a  look  of  divine  pity  and  affec 
tion  which  did  not  escape  her  father.  Lord  Merri- 
rnount  said  that  he  would  remain  awhile  with  Mason 
and  return  later.  So  Mr.  Hetlow  led  his  daughter 
away.  As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  earshot  of  the 
house  he  asked  his  daughter  sternly  what  it  all 
meant 

"  It  means/'  said  Bessie,  "  that  Mr.  Mason  escaped 
being  murdered  by  the  merest  chance." 


THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE.  281 

"I  know  that,"  replied  her  father  sharply,  "and  I 
regret  it  as  much  as  any  man  can,  since  it  is  sup 
posed,  although  I  do  not  believe  it,  that  this  mishap 
occurred  in  our  service.  I  do  not  mean  that.  1 
want  to  know  what  was  the  meaning  of  this  meeting 
without  my  knowledge." 

"  I  presume  you  mean  between  Mr.  Mason  and  my 
self,"  replied  Bessie,  not  evading  the  issue  her  father 
sought.  "That  was  purely  accidental.  Until  I  went 
to  Springhill  with  Lord  Merrimount,  I  did  not  know 
that  Mr.  Mason  was  there.  He  had  come  up  quite 
unexpectedly,  although  Wallis  had  written  for  him  to 
come.  Not  knowing  whether  he  was  in  town,  she 
had  not  informed  anyone  that  he  might  possibly 
arrive/' 

This  was  true,  as  Mr.  Hetlow  had  learned  from  Mr. 
Stanton  earlier  in  the  evening.  It  was  a  moment  or 
two  before  he  spoke  again. 

"  I  should  have  supposed,"  he  said,  "that,  after  our 
conversation  upon  this  topic  some  time  ago,  you  would 
have  refused  to  go  upon  the  river  with  him." 

"  I  should  have  done  so,  had  the  proposal  been  for 
me  to  go  with  him  alone,"  she  replied.  "  But  there  was 
nothing  in  our  conversation  which  was  anything  like 
a  command  from  you  that  1  was  not  to  talk  with  him 
when  we  met.  You  had  threatened  to  forbid  him  the 
house,  but  subsequently  you  asked  him  there,  and 
you  saw  me  meet  him  and  talk  with  him,  briefly  to  be 
sure." 

"  But  that  was  in  my  presence,"  replied  her  father 
sternly  ;  "  you  know  very  well,  if  I  did  not  put  my 
thought  in  the  form  of  a  command,  that  what  I  sought 
to  do  was  to  put  an  end  to  the  relation  between  you, 
and  especially  after  your  unwomanly  declaration  that, 
if  he  were  to  offer  himself,  you  would  accept  him." 

The  use  of  the  word  "  unwomanly  "  aroused  Bessie's 
spirit. 

"  After  what  I  have  passed  through  this  evening," 
she  said,  "  I  do  not  feel  like  entering  into  a  contest 


282  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

of  words  with  you.  Indeed  I  am  not  equal  to  it,  for  I 
have  been  more  shocked  than  you  evidently  under 
stand  ;  I  am  very  weak.  Your  use  of  that  word  is 
unlike  you.  In  nothing  that  I  said  to  you  is  there 
any  justification  for  its  use.  But  I  do  not  propose  to 
evade  the  responsibilities  or  consequences  of  my  acts. 
I  will  tell  you  frankly,  so  that  neither  of  us  shall  be 
under  any  misapprehension,  that  to-night  Mr.  Mason 
asked  me  to  be  his  wife.  And  I  said  yes." 

"  You  did  ? "  almost  shouted  Mr.  Hetlow. 

"  Yes,  I  told  him  so,"  she  replied  quietly.  "  I  think  I 
told  you  I  would  ;  but  I  further  told  him  that  I  would 
not  marry  him  until  I  had  gained  your  consent." 

Mr.  Hetlow  stopped,  so  great  was  his  astonishment 
at  this  concession  of  his  daughter.  Ever  since  their 
previous  conversation,  when  she  had  turned  from  a 
child  into  a  strong,  determined  woman  displaying  a 
spirit  as  firm  as  his  own,  he  had  stood  somewhat  in  awe 
of  her.  That  she  had  done  that  which  she  said  she 
would  do,  and  yet  had  made  this  concession  to  him, 
left  him  almost  speechless,  and  he  hardly  knew  how  to 
meet  the  situation. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  considered  me,"  he  said,  in  a 
strangely  altered  tone,  "  and  I  will  insist  that  you 
keep  to  your  promise,  that  you  have  thus  made  with 
out  its  exaction  on  my  part.  This  is  a  serious  matter, 
and  I  freely  confess  that  I  do  not  know  how  to  deal 
with  it.  Until  I  shall  have  had  time  to  reason  coolly 
and  without  prejudice  upon  it,  I  do  not  think  it  is  too 
much  to  ask  of  you  that  you  will  keep  it."  They 
walked  on  for  some  distance  in  silence.  At  length 
Mr.  Hetlow  spoke  again  : 

"  This  matter  is  full  of  embarrassments,  and  I  think 
that  I  have  the  right  to  exact  the  further  promise  from 
you  that,  until  such  time  as  I  can  arrive  at  a  conclu 
sion  as  to  the  proper  course  to  pursue,  Mason  shall 
not  be  received  at  my  house,  and  that  you  shall  cease 
all  intercourse  with  him." 


THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE. 

"  As  to  his  being  received  at  your  house,"  replied 
Bessie,  "  I  can  say  nothing.  You  are  master  there 
and  may  say  who  shall  enter  and  who  shall  not,  but  as 
to  my  intercourse  with  the  man  whom  I  have  accepted 
as  my  lover,  and  whom  I  have  promised  to  marry  when 
your  consent  is  obtained,  I  shall  refuse  to  make  any 
such  promise.  Do  not  fear,"  she  added  hastily,  "  that 
I  will  seek  to  meet  him  secretly,  or  that  I  will  make 
appointments  to  meet  him.  I  have  too  much  pride  for 
that.  Bat  when  I  do  meet  him,  I  shall  not  avoid  him. 
I  shall  be  glad  when  such  meetings  occur  and  I  shall 
not  alter  the  daily  course  of  my  life  in  order  to  avoid 
him.  I  will  make  no  such  promise." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  house.  As  they 
entered  the  door  Bessie,  who  had  borne  up  under 
this  added  strain  of  a  contest  with  her  father,  could 
stand  it  no  longer,  and  without  warning  reeled  and 
fainted.  Mr.  Hetlow  caught  her  as  she  was  falling, 
loudly  calling  for  assistance.  As  he  bore  her  to  a 
lounge  he  blamed  himself  for  his  cruelty  in  forcing  this 
issue  upon  her  at  such  a  time. 

She  recovered  shortly.  But  an  end  was  put  to 
further  discussion  of  her  engagement. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE   DECISIVE  BLOW. 

WHILE  all  of  these  events  were  occurring  the  four 
conspirators  were  having  frequent  consultations  as  to 
the  course  to  be  pursued  under  the  developments  of  the 
week.  There  was  division  in  the  councils.  Orton 
Pierson  was  inclined  to  the  belief  that  no  further  dem 
onstration  should  be  made  until  time  had  elapsed 
to  allow  the  people  at  Dobbs  Ferry  to  recover  from 
their  wonder  and  excitement  over  the  burglary.  They 
had  all  concluded,  since  there  had  been  no  showing  to 
the  contrary,  that  they  could  rely  upon  the  truth  of 
Mrs.  Stanton's  statements  that  she  had  so  disposed  of 
the  box  that  she  could  neither  give  it  to  them  nor  ob 
tain  it  herself.  Although  Mrs.  Stanton  had  undoubt 
edly  conveyed  that  impression  to  Bob,  it  had  not  in 
fact  been  her  intention  to  do  so,  nor  was  she  aware  at 
the  time,  or  subsequently,  that  she  had  done  so.  That 
Bob  believed  it,  however,  was  a  strong  point  in  the 
consideration  of  their  future  movements. 

Moore  was  strongly  of  the  opinion  that  they  should 
go  forward  with  all  possible  rapidity.  He  argued 
that  the  box  was  out  out  of  the  way  with  its  contents 
whatever  it  might  show,  and  was  as  far  away  from  Mr. 
Hetlow  and  Mr.  Stanton  as  it  was  from  them.  He 
pointed  out  that  Mrs.  Jenkins  was  totally  ignorant  as 
to  the  meaning  of  the  contents,  and  that  if  it  did  not 
argue  there  was  little  of  value  or  significance  to  be  ob 
tained  from  them,  at  least  the  people  at  Dobbs  Ferry 
were  estopped,  by  her  ignorance  from  arriving  at  the 
truth.  The  arrival  of  the  London  solicitor,  he  urged, 
could  not  be  long  delayed,  and  it  was  necessary  for 


THE  DECISIVE  BLOW.  285 

them  to  appear  before  Mr.  Hetlow  with  such  indubi 
table  proof  as  would  not  only  put  an  end  to  any  sus 
picion  he  might  have  but  put  him  into  a  condition  of 
mind  to  say  to  that  solicitor,  when  he  did  arrive,  that 
there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  struggling  against 
the  plain  facts. 

"  In  short,"  he  said,  "  we  will  gain  nothing  by  wait 
ing  but  to  prolong  the  effort  and  permit  suspicion  to 
harden  into  belief." 

In  this  he  was  supported  by  both  Ransom  and  Bob. 
When,  however,  the  news  was  brought  to  them  that 
the  men  placed  at  Springhill  by  Ransom  had  at 
tempted  the  life  of  Mason  there  was  consternation. 
Ransom  was  bitterly  blamed  by  the  other  three  for 
having  attempted  a  plan,  which,  even  if  successful, 
could  have  done  no  more  than  to  have  gotten  out  of 
the  way  a  man  who  was  giving  them  trouble  by  reason 
of  his  determined  suspicions  and  his  efforts  to  prove 
them,  and  who,  being  killed,  would  have  had  his  place 
supplied  by  someone  else,  with  even  a  stronger  motive 
for  arriving  at  knowledge.  But  having  failed,  it  was 
even  worse,  and  Mason  would  now  have  added  to  his 
former  suspicions  the  conviction  that  the  attempt 
upon  his  life  was  because  he  had  entertained  such 
suspicions. 

Ransom  denied  energetically  that  he  had  given  such 
instructions  to  his  men,  and  declared  that  they  had 
exceeded  them.  He  said  the  part  that  they  were  to 
play  was  wholly  that  of  spies.  While  there  was  no 
expression  on  the  part  of  anyone  present  indicating 
that  they  doubted  his  word,  nevertheless  all  of  them 
were  filled  with  disbelief. 

It  was  Bob  who  now  urged  immediate  action. 

"Whatever  truth  there  was  in  Moore's  argument 
before,"  he  said,  "it  is  doubly  true  now.  I  must  sub 
mit  those  proofs  at  once.  To  delay  now  would  be  to 
confirm  all  the  suspicions  they  may  have.  To  go 

ere  now,  right  on  the  heels  of  this  affair,  would  carry 


i86  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

the  idea  that  I,  at  least,  was  not  a  party  to  it.  I  con* 
fess  I  have  no  particular  desire  to  go  there.  The 
probability  is  that  my  treatment  will  not  be  such  as  to 
make  it  particularly  pleasant,  but  I  sec  no  way  of 
escaping  it.  It  is  a  time  when  we  must  put  on  our 
boldest  front,  play  our  game  out  to  the  end,  leading 
the  trump  card."  He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and 
then  added,  "  I  wonder  who  that  fellow  was  who 
went  to  his  assistance.  Do  your  men  not  know,  Ran 
som  ? " 

Ransom  replied  that  he  did  not  know  of  any  man 
being  there,  saying  probably  that  it  was  someone 
visiting  there  temporarily. 

"  Well,"  said  Bob,  "  it  is  not  a  matter  of  importance  ; 
only  I  like  to  know  whom  I  am  to  meet  there." 

The  course  suggested  by  Bob  was  agreed  upon 
by  all,  aven  Orton  Pierson,  who  had  said  that  since 
the  attempt  on  Mason  they  must  either  do  as  suggested 
by  Bob,  or  give  the  whole  affair  up.  Whereupon  the 
proofs  which  had  been  prepared  by  Pierson  and 
Moore  were  produced  and  discussed. 

These  papers  were,  of  course,  all  forgeries. 

And  it  was  proposed  that  Bob  should  represent  to 
Mr.  Hetlow  and  the  others  that,  in  a  search  for  further 
proof,  Orton  Pierson  had  found  these  papers  among 
the  effects  of  his  deceased  wife. 

The  letter  purporting  to  have  been  written  by 
Edmund  Dugdale  was  the  boldest  of  all,  for  it  was 
known  that  Mr.  Hetlow  had  in  his  possession  a  num 
ber  of  letters  unquestionably  written  by  Edmund  Dug- 
dale.  When  Mr.  Hetlow,  at  a  time  when  neither  Dick 
nor  Mr.  Stanton  were  present,  had  shown  to  Harold 
Pierson  the  papers  he  had  received  from  the  London 
solicitor,  Bob  had  slipped,  when  unobserved,  a  small 
scrap  of  paper  from  among  them  into  his  pocket — a 
scrap  containing  writing,  which  he  had  quickiy  judged 
upon  a  hasty  examination  to  be  the  same  as  that  ot  the 
Dugdale  letters.  They  were  not  certain  that  it  was. 


THE  DECISIVE  BLOW*.  287 

but  arguing  themselves  into  the  belief,  they  had 
entered  upon  this  risky  venture.  Accordingly  Bob 
addressed  a  note  to  Mr.  Hetlow,  saying  that  some 
further  proof  had  come  to  light,  which  he  wished  to 
submit  and  to  consult  him  about,  especially  with  a 
view  to  a  comparison  with  some  of  the  papers  in  the 
hands  of  Mr.  Hetlow.  And  he  said,  in  this  letter, 
that  unless  he  heard  to  the  contrary  from  Mr.  Hetlow, 
he  should  visit  him  at  "  The  Larches  "  on  the  follow 
ing  afternoon  at  three  o'clock. 

"  He  will  not  be  able,  under  this  short  notice,"  said 
Bob  grimly,  "  to  deny  me  admittance.  I  will  take 
good  care  not  to  be  in  the  way  of  any  message  to  the 
contrary." 

This  was  considered  by  all  to  be  the  decisive  blow 
of  their  enterprise,  and  they  departed  from  the  place 
of  meeting  with  no  little  degree  of  anxiety  as  to  the 
outcome. 

While  this  enterprise  was  going  forward  Mrs.  Stan- 
ton  at  Springhill  was  in  great  trouble.  She  had 
been  greatly  shocked  by  the  attack  made  upon  Dick 
and  its  consequences.  Moreover  she  had  been 
greatly  frightened,  as  she  listened  to  her  husband's 
argument  that  the  assault  came  from  those  who  were 
connected  in  some  way  with  Harold  Pierson.  While 
she  endeavored  to  persuade  herself  that  such  could 
not  be  the  case,  nevertheless  the  fear  that  it  might  be 
so  was  giving  her  many  uneasy  moments.  She  bit 
terly  regretted  that  she  had  entered  into  any  arrange 
ment  with  Harold  Pierson.  It  seemed  to  her  that, 
from  that  moment,  nothing  but  trouble  and  disaster 
had  followed.  More  than  once  she  had  been  upon 
the  point  of  confiding  in  Wallis  and  asking  her  ad 
vice  as  to  what  she  should  do.  But  she  had  been 
deterred  through  fear  of  her  husband's  anger,  and 
therefore  had  refrained  from  even  giving  any  infor 
mation  as  to  the  box,  She  had  gone  to  great  lengths 


288  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

in  endeavors  to  have  the  box  found.  She  had  fre 
quently  slipped  into  the  library  alone,  and  as  fre 
quently  drawn  out  the  drawer  in  which  it  was,  leav 
ing  it  open  in  the  hope  that  someone  would  discover 
it.  But  as  frequently  someone  had  gone  in  and 
closed  it.  She  had  even  taken  precautions  on  one 
occasion  to  take  out  all  of  the  old  papers  with  which 
she  had  covered  it  in  order  that  it  might  attract  at 
tention,  resting  alone  in  the  drawer.  But  even  then 
someone  had  closed  the  drawer  without  seeing  the 
box  she  so  much  desired  to  be  discovered,  through 
no  agency  of  hers.  Yet  notwithstanding  her  inge 
nious  efforts  the  box  remained  persistently  hidden. 

During  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  Lord  Merri- 
mount  and  Bessie  came  over  to  Springhill,  the 
avowed  purpose  of  their  call  being  to  inquire  after 
Dick  and  his  injuries.  As  subsequent  events  de 
veloped  it  was  shown  that  each  had  a  purpose  care 
fully  concealed  from  the  other.  Notwithstanding  Mr. 
Hetlow's  opposition,  Bessie  had  accompanied  Lord 
Merrimount  at  the  latter's  request.  Her  father,  in 
deed,  had  made  no  objection  at  the  time  of  Merri- 
mount's  suggestion,  that  is,  in  words,  although  the 
cloud  that  gathered  upon  his  brow  showed  Bessie  he 
was  much  displeased.  She  was  not  deterred,  how 
ever,  and  promptly  supported  the  young  noble 
man's  proposition,  and  together  they  walked  away, 
leaving  her  father  to  deal  with  his  wrath  as  best  he 
might. 

On  arrival  at  Springhill,  they  found  the  family 
gathered  on  the  veranda.  Dick  was  bearing  the 
marks  of  his  fall,  shown  in  severe  cuts  on  his  face 
and  hard  bruises,  while  he  was  so  stiff  and  sore  he 
could  move  only  with  difficulty.  Their  conversation 
dealt  with  the  events  of  the  preceding  day,  and  Mr. 
Stanton  again  argued  his  belief  that  the  assault  upon 
Dick  was  in  some  way  to  be  traced  to  Harold  Pierson 
or  those  associated  with  him.  As  they  talked  Bessie 


THE  DECISIVE  BLOW.  289 

took  her  place  beside  Dick,  and  assumed  a  relation  to 
him  which  made  Wallis  open  her  black  eyes  in  wide 
wonder.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  interview  for 
which  she  had  maneuvered  had  borne  its  fruits.  So 
much  engrossed  had  she  been  with  the  exciting  scene 
of  Dick's  fall  and  the  previous  one  of  Merrimount's 
love-making,  that  she  had  utterly  forgotten  the  one 
to  which  she  had  said  she  was  the  guardian  angel. 

When  she  saw  Merrimount  appear,  she  experienced 
a  nervousness  quite  unusual.  Indeed  her  face 
flushed,  much  to  her  annoyance,  and  there  was  a 
marked  air  of  constraint  in  her  manner  toward  the 
young  Englishman.  With  extreme  care,  she  placed 
herself  as  remote  from  him  as  possible,  and  was  dis 
tinctly  conscious  that  she  talked  in  a  most  spasmodic 
way,  jerky  as  she  described  it  afterward,  sometimes 
voluble  beyond  her  wont  and  at  others  strangely 
silent. 

After  they  had  conversed  for  possibly  a  half  an 
hour,  Merrimount,  to  her  great  alarm,  asked  Mr.  Stan- 
ton  if  he  would  grant  him  a  few  moments  of  private 
conversation.  Intuitively  grasping  his  purpose  she 
rose  from  her  seat  half  in  protest,  but  sank  back 
again,  realizing  the  impropriety  of  assuming  to  know 
what  that  purpose  was.  Her  action  was  not  noticed 
by  anyone  else,  nevertheless  she  felt  the  hot  blood 
rushing  to  her  face,  as  she  imagined  that  everyone 
had  noticed  her  action  and  knew  its  meaning. 

The  old  lawyer,  acceding  to  Merrimount's  request, 
led  the  way  into  the  library,  supposing  the  conference 
requested  bore  some  relation  to  the  matter  which  was 
uppermost  in  the  minds  of  all.  His  astonishment  was 
vast,  and  even  ludicrous,  when  the  young  nobleman 
abruptly  announced  that  he  had  done  himself  the 
honor  to  declare  his  love  for  Wallis.  Mr.  Stanton  fairly 
fell  back  in  his  chair  limp  through  amazement.  So 
ludicrous  indeed  was  his  appearance  that  Merrimount 
Struggled  hard  to  conceal  his  desire  to  laugh. 


290  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

"  I  do  not  know  your  customs  in  the  affairs  of  the 
heart,"  he  went  on,  "but  I  conceive  that  the  duty  rest 
ing  upon  a  man  who  has  placed  himself  in  the  position 
I  have,  is  the  same  here  as  at  home.  Therefore  I 
feel  that  I  should  not  go  further  without  acquainting 
you  of  what  I  have  done  and  asking  your  acquiescence 
in  further  proceedings." 

"I  never  was  so  much  astonished  in  my  life,"  said 
the  old  lawyer,  recovering  himself.  "  I  suppose  since 
you  have  made  the  declaration  to  Wallis  that  there 
is  little  need  of  coming  to  me.  Young  ladies  in  this 
country  seem  to  have  taken  it  to  themselves  to  settle 
these  matters  without  the  advice  or  assistance  of 
their  elders.  But  we  all  supposed  here  that  Hetlow's 
daughter  was  the  one  you  sought." 

"  So  I  learned  from  Wallis,"  replied  Merrimount. 
"  But  it  is  not  so.  The  proposition  which  I  had  the 
honor  to  submit  to  Mr.  Hetlow,  knowledge  of  which 
seems  to  have  gone  beyond  us,  has  been  wholly  mis 
apprehended.  It  had  no  relation  to  my  choice  of  a 
wife." 

"  Ah!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Stanton.  After  a  moment's 
hesitation,  he  added,  "  I  presume  Wallis  has  given  her 
consent  ?  " 

"Upon  the  countrary,"  replied  Merrimount,  "she 
has  not.  She  has  left  me  to  sue  again.  She  did  not 
deny  me,  nor  did  she  forbid  me  to  talk  with  her  again 
upon  the  matter.  Indeed  I  may  say  that  she  gave  me 
permission  to  hope  for  a  favorable  response." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  "I  doubt  very  much 
whether  my  consent,  or  the  withholding  of  it,  would  be  a 
factor  in  the  problem.  If  Wallis  wants  to  marry  you 
she  will,  and  if  she  don't  she  won't,  and  whatever  side 
of  the  case  I  might  be  on  I  would  exert  no  influence 
upon  it.  I  am  free  to  say  to  you  I  have  never  fancied 
the  idea  of  our  American  girls  marrying  foreigners,  or 
into  a  rank  of  life  so  far  removed  from  the  habits  and 
ideas  they  are  accustomed  to.  The  training  and  as- 


THE  DECISIVE  BLOW.  291 

sociations,  shaping  and  formulating  as  they  must  be, 
obtaining  in  your  walk  of  life,  are  as  different,  I  take  it, 
from  anything  this  country  affords  as  they  well  can  be. 
I  have  doubted  the  advisability  of  these  international 
marriages  and  the  resulting  happiness.  That  however 
has  been  a  general  reflection  on  my  part.  Treating  you 
as  a  man,  apart  from  any  other  consideration,  I  can  say, 
sincerely,  1  have  a  very  great  regard  for  you,  and  can 
see  no  possible  objection  to  you  as  a  husband  for 
Wallis." 

"  It  is  as  a  man  I  desire  to  be  judged,"  interjected 
the  young  nobleman,  bowing  in  a  rather  stately  manner 
to  the  lawyer. 

"  If  you  were  a  producer,  a  laborer  with  hand  or 
head,"  pursued  Mr.  Stanton,  "  I  should  be  better 
pleased.  I  suppose  you  will  call  that  sturdy  de 
mocracy.  But  it  is  not,  it  is  only  the  result  of  my  ed 
ucation." 

"  I  am  seeking  to  be  just  that,"  replied  Merrimount 
smiling  ;  "  to  seek  to  enter  commerce  is  the  purpose 
of  my  visit  to  America." 

The  old  lawyer  looked  at  him  keenly  for  a  moment 
or  two  without  speaking,  and  then  said  : 

"  Ah  !  well.  I  cannot  offer  any  objections  to  you 
as  a  man  ;  such  as  I  have  go  wholly  to  your  rank.  I 
presume,  however,  it  is  that  very  rank  which  will  make 
you  successful  with  Wallis." 

"  Upon  the  contrary,"  laughed  the  young  nobleman, 
"  I  fear  that  very  rank  is  one  of  the  obstacles.  Evi 
dently  Miss  Gladvvin  is  as  strong  a  republican  as  the 
fiercest  democrat  could  wish.  That,  and  the  fact  that 
I  am  not  rich,  seem  to  be  the  stumbling-blocks." 

The  old  lawyer  laughed  heartily. 

"  Do  not  believe  her  for  a  moment,"  he  said  ;  "  that 
is  so  far  as  money  is  concerned.  It  is  merely  a  caprice 
of  hers  to  talk  that  way." 

"So  I  supposed,"  replied  Merrimount.  "  But  I  find 
that  if  I  win  her,  I  must  do  so  as  Eric  Lacey  and  not 


292  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

as  Lord  Merrimount.  I  must  win  her  as  a  commoner 
without  reference  to  my  rank  and  station,  and  solely 
by  reason  of  my  ability  to  impress  my  qualities  upon 
her.  I  am  very  much  pleased  that  it  is  so,  and," 
rising  as  he  spoke,  "  I  know  that  if  I  am  successful  in 
my  suit,  I  shall  have  won  a  heart  of  gold  as  well  as  a 
most  charming  companion." 

Mr.  Stanton  rose  at  the  same  moment  and  said 
feelingly  : 

"  Wallis  is  a  good  girl,  true  and  loyal,  and  will  make 
any  man  a  good  wife.  What  she  may  be  in  the  rank 
of  life  to  which  you  propose  to  transplant  her,  the 
future  alone  can  tell." 

Placing  his  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  young 
nobleman,  he  added  : 

"  Well,  sir,  you  have  my  consent  if  such  is  necessary. 
God  speed  you." 

They  walked  out  into  the  hall  together  and  joined 
the  others.  Wallis  watched  their  coming  with  much 
agitation,  which  she  tried  hard  to  conceal,  and  success 
fully.  To  Mr.  Stanton  the  incident  seemed  to  afford 
much  quiet  amusement,  although  he  said  nothing  as 
to  what  had  passed  between  himself  and  the  young 
Englishman.  Mrs.  Stanton,  during  this  interview  in 
the  library,  had  left  the  veranda,  and  so,  when  the  old 
lawyer,  remarking  that  he  thought  he  would  stroll  over 
to  "  The  Larches,"  strolled  away  the  four  young  people 
were  left  together. 

Lord  Merrimount  rose  from  his  chair  and  going  to 
Wallis,  bowing,  offered  her  his  arm.  There  was  so 
much  determination  in  his  manner  that,  without  real 
izing  what  she  was  doing,  she  rose  and  took  it.  He 
led  her  to  the  other  end  of  the  veranda,  where  he  said: 
"  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  say  to  your  uncle  that 
yesterday  1  declared  my  love  to  you." 

Wallis  looked  up  at  him  quickly  and  sharply. 
"  Who  gave  you  permission  to  do  so  ?"  she  asked. 
i    "  No   one,    indeed,"   he    said    with    a    smile,    "  I 
thought  it  my  duty.     I  did  not  tell  him  that  you  had 


THE  DECISIVE  BLOW.  293 

given  me  permission  to  do  so.  Nor  did  I  tell  him 
that  you  had  accepted  my  suit.  Upon  the  contrary  I 
said  that  you  had  given  me  no  more  assurance  than 
permission  to  hope." 

"  He  must  have  thought  then,"  replied  Wallis  nerv 
ously,  "  that  you  came  to  him  on  a  very  slight  founda 
tion." 

"  Do  not  say  that  it  is  slight,  "  he  implored  earnestly. 

Something  in  Wallis's  manner  made  him  add 
quickly  : 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  press  my  suit  to-night ;  I  do  not 
want  to  frighten  you,  nor  do  I  wish  you  to  think  that 
my  conference  with  your  uncle  was  an  endeavor  to 
coerce  you,  but  I  felt  that  I  ought  to  make  my 
intention  known,  so  that  there  would  be  no  misappre 
hension  as  to  my  purpose.  While  your  uncle  was 
pleased  to  say  that  he  saw  no  objection  to  me  as  a 
man,  he  did  as  a  nobleman " 

"That  is  just  it,"  interrupted  Wallis  impulsively. 

Then,  perceiving  the  significance  that  might  be  given 
to  her  words,  she  tried  to  withdraw  them,  but  Merri- 
mount  pursued  the  advantage  she  had  given  him. 

"  It  is  my  misfortune,"  he  said,  "  not  my  fault.  I 
cannot  very  well  divest  myself  of  the  station  into 
which  I  was  born.  But  I  would  willingly  try,  if  it 
were  to  stand  between  us.  I  beg  you  will  look  upon 
it  as  something  inherent  to  my  birth,  as  you  would 
look  upon  some  slight  deformity,  and  not  be  cruel  be 
cause  of  it." 

He  took  her  hands  in  his  and  looking  down  upon 
her  tenderly,  without  speaking  for  a  moment  or  two, 
finally  said  : 

"  Wallis,  I  doubt  if  it  is  in  my  power  to  make  you 
know  how  sincere  and  earnest  is  the  love  I  bear  you. 
I  have  looked  deeper  into  your  nature  than  you  think. 
I  know  the  sterling-  quality  of  your  heart  and  mind. 
I  know  how  true,  how  loyal,  how  unselfish  you  are, 
and  if  you  will  but  permit  ir.t,  I  will  make  you  my 
fc  and  bear  you  in  triumph,  proudly,  to  those  W'he 


294  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

love  me,  and  who  will  love  you  not  alone  for  the  sake 
of  me,  but  for  those  qualities  which  have  won  my  love. 
O  Wallis  !  I  am  not  a  carpet  knight,  dancing  at 
tendance  upon  my  lady,  and  perhaps  I  have  not  those 
graces  which  easily  win  a  woman's  heart ;  but  I  can 
promise  you  a  deep  devotion,  a  protecting  care,  and  a 
loving  heart.  I  ask  you  only  to  think  of  me,  as  your 
uncle  says,  as  a  man.  I  beseech  you  to  cast  aside 
every  consideration  other  than  that  I  will  be  a  true 
lover  and  a  good  husband  to  you.  I  cannot  promise 
you  a  grand  life.  That  is  not  in  my  power.  At  the 
very  best  I  am  a  younger  son,  but  I  can  promise  you 
a  never  failing  love.  I  shall  not  worry  you.  I  shall 
not  again  speak  of  my  love  for  you,  until  a  little  time 
hence,  when  I  will  come  for  my  answer.  And  by  that 
answer,  be  it  for  good  or  for  evil,  I  will  abide." 

He  drew  her  hand  within  his  arm  and,  without  wait 
ing  for  a  remark  from  her,  led  her  back  to  the  others, 
trembling  and  quite  subdued. 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Stanton  returned  from  "  The 
Larches,"  and  approaching  the  group  upon  the  ver 
anda,  said  : 

"  Hetlow  has  just  received  a  note  from  Harold 
Pierson,  announcing  his  intention  to  call  upon  him 
to-morrow  afternoon,  for  the  purpose  of  submitting 
some  new  proof  he  has  just  discovered.  It  is  either  an 
exhibition  of  impudent  audacity,  or  else  we  are  mis 
taken  in  supposing  him  to  be  connected  with  the  assault 
upon  Mason." 

Then  he  turned  to  Dick,  and  with  a  grim  significance, 
which  was  noticed  by  all,  said  : 

"  Mr.  Hetlow,  Mason,  expects  you  to  go  over  to 
morrow  afternoon — the  hour  is  three — and  after  get 
ting  through  with  Pierson,  he  desires  an  interview 
with  you." 

If  the  others  did  not  understand  what  was  meant 
by  this,  Dick  and  Bessie  did. 

A  few  moments  later  Merrimount  and  Bessie  left 
leaving  Dick  anxious  and  Wallis  very  much  disturbed. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

HAROLD'S  PROOF. 

MRS.  STANTON  was  much  alarmed  by  the  an 
nouncement  that  Harold  Pierson  was  again  to  visit 
"The  Larches."  During  the  morning  she  was  so  pre 
occupied  and  nervous  that,  she  attracted  the  attention 
of  Wallis.  As  much  troubled  as  Wallis  had  been  over 
the  suit  that  Merrimount  was  making,  and  all  the 
more  troubled  because  she  had  discovered  that  she 
had  a  much  greater  regard  for  the  young  English 
man  than  she  was  willing  to  admit,  she  finally  asked 
her  aunt  what  it  was  that  was  giving  her  so  much  dis 
tress.  The  good  lady  prevaricated,  denying  that 
anything  extraordinary  was  occupying  her  mind. 
The  shrewd  Wallis,  however,  believing  that  her  aunt 
was  not  dealing  sincerely  with  her,  determined  that 
she  would  not  permit  an  interview  with  Harold  Pier- 
son  if  she  could  prevent  it.  Thus  it  was  that,  in  her 
endeavor  to  frustrate  a  meeting  between  her  aunt  and 
young  Pierson,  she  was  prevented  from  going  to 
Bessie,  a  visit  to  whom  she  had  promised  herself  on 
that  morning,  in  order  to  consult  her  as  to  the  offer 
she  had  received  from  Lord  Merrimount. 

The  impending"  interview  with  Bessie's  father  occu 
pied  Dick's  thoughts  duringthe  morning.  Bessie  had 
whispered  to  him  the  previous  evening  that  when  her 
father  called  her  to  account  for  going  upon  an  ex 
cursion  of  which  Dick  was  a  party,  she  had  told  her 
father  that  she  had  pledged  herself  to  be  Dick's  wife, 
and  that  her  father  was  very  angry,  therefore  Dick 
had  no  doubt  as  to  what  the  subject  of  that  interview 
would  be.  He  felt  that  the  issue  had  come  and  that  he 
must  meet  it.  He  speculated  upon  the  effect  it  would 


296  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLION'S. 

have  upon  himself  and  Bessie.  He  was  sure  of  her. 
That  she  would  be  true  to  him  he  did  not  doubt.  He 
determined  that,  notwithstanding  what  demand  Mr. 
Hetlow  might  make,  he  would  refuse  to  give  up  the 
promise  of  her  hand,  and  that  he  would  abide  by 
such  refusal  and  its  consequences.  He  made  no  doubt 
that  in  the  event  of  such  refusal  Mr.  Hetlow  would 
insist  upon  the  severance  of  their  business  relation. 
While  he  recognized  this  was  in  a  measure  greatly  to 
be  regretted,  nevertheless,  he  felt  that  it  was  not  wholly 
a  disaster,  for  his  reputation  in  the  trade  was  high, 
and  that  he  could  quickly  establish  a  new  relation, 
which,  if  it  did  not  promise  as  well  for  the  future, 
would  be  immediately  as  advantageous. 

Its  effect  upon  Bessie,  however,  was  what  troubled 
him  most.  Whether  she  would  be  willing  to  accept 
disinheritance  and  leave  her  home  he  had  grave 
doubts.  He  recognized  that  it  was  a  serious  situa 
tion  for  her,  and  felt  it  would  be  too  much  to  ask 
of  her  immediately.  He  therefore  determined  that 
he  would  go  no  further  with  Mr.  Hetlow  than  to 
refuse  to  break  his  relations  with  Bessie,  to  promise 
nothing,  and  then  to  be  guided  by  future  develop 
ments.  During  the  morning  Mr.  Stanton  had 
wandered  about  in  a  moody  frame  of  mind,  unable  to 
settle  himself  upon  any  occupation.  As  the  hour  ap 
proached  for  them  to  go  to  "The  Larches  "he  said 
to  Dick  : 

"  I  bound  myself  by  a  foolish  promise  not  to  say 
anything  to  you  about  an  event  which  will  occur,  i 
have  made  up  my  mind  that  I  will  not  violate  that 
promise  in  any  way,  by  warning  you  to  be  prepared 
for  an  attack  upon  yourself  in  a  matter  which,  I  pre 
sume,  is  nearer  your  heart  just  at  present  than  any 
other  thing  in  the  world." 

"I  understand  you,  sir,"  replied  Dick,  "and  1 
thank  you  for  the  warning.  I  knew  quite  as  well 
what  it  will  be,  as  if  you  had  told  me,  I  have  been 


HAROLD'S  PROOF.  297 

thinking  about  it  all  the  morning.  And  I  have  firmly 
determined  upon  my  course,  let  the  consequences  be 
what  they  may." 

"  I  would  like  to  give  you  some  advice  upon  the 
situation,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  "  but  that  would  involve 
the  breaking  of  my  promise.  And  yet  I  feel  that  you 
are  in  need  of  cool  advice,  perhaps  as  much  at  this 
particular  time  as  you  ever  have  been  or  will  be,  in 
your  life.  Let  me  say  but  just  one  word.  Do  nothing 
rash." 

"  I  can  do  nothing  rash,"  replied  Dick,  "  for  I 
enter  upon  the  matter  after  cool  reflection  and  ample 
deliberation.  I  have  laid  out  my  programme  and 
will  strictly  adhere  to  it." 

He  turned  upon  Mr.  Stanton  with  sudden  energy 
in  his  voice  and  determination  in  his  face  : 

"  Nothing  will  make  me  consent  to  give  up  Bessie." 

The  old  lawyer  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  a 
gleam  lighting  up  his  eyes,  and  then  turned  away 
from  him  with  the  remark  :  "  Well,  it  is  time  to  go 
over.  Do  you  think  you  are  able  to  walk,  or  shall  I 
have  the  carriage  brought  up  for  you  to  ride?" 

Dick  replied  that  a  carriage  was  not  necessary,  and 
providing  himself  with  a  walking-stick  the  two  set 
out.  They  had  not  gone  far,  before  Wallis  called 
after  them  to  wait  for  her,  saying,  with  a  laugh,  that 
she  had  been  at  all  of  the  seances  touching  the  Dug- 
dale  claim,  and  could  not  miss  the  present  one. 

"  Besides,"  she  said,  with  a  gay  laugh,"!  have  a 
iover  there,  and  I  must  look  after  him." 

Dick  did  not  take  this  in,  but  her  uncle  looked 
down  upon  her  curiously,  laughing  the  while. 

Arriving  at  the  house  they  found  Harold  Pierson 
had  not  yet  arrived  ;  that  Lord  Merrimount  after 
lunch  had  gone  out  for  a  row  upon  the  river;  and 
that  Bessie  was  in  her  room.  To  her  Wallis  went 
immediately.  Mr.  Hetlow  was  in  the  library,  and 
thither  Mr.  Stanton  and  Dick  went.  In  his  greeting 


298  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

of  Dick,  Mr.  Hetlow  was  ceremoniously  polite,  formal, 
cold,  and  precise.  They  were  hardly  seated  when 
Harold  Pierson  drove  up  to  the  door.  A  moment 
later  he  was  announced  in  the  library.  There  was 
nothing  to  be  noticed  in  his  manner  differing  from 
that  which  had  marked  it  on  previous  occasions. 
Noting  upon  the  face  of  Dick  marks  of  his  previous 
day's  experience  he  inquired  if  Dick  had  met  with  an 
accident.  Mr.  Stanton  broke  in,  before  Dick  could 
reply,  with  the  remark  : 

"  Nothing  less  than  an  attempt  at  murder." 

If  it  was  his  intention  to  throw  Harold  Pierson  off 
his  guard  he  signally  failed.  With  an  assumption  of 
extreme  solicitude  Harold  inquired  anxiously  for  the 
particulars,  manifested  deep  interest  in  the  recital, 
expressed  detestation  over  the  deed,  and  wondered 
what  could  be  the  motive  of  it. 

Mr.  Stanton,  with  increased  sharpness  and  asperity 
of  tone,  said  : 

"  We  connect  it  with  an  event  which  has  absorbed 
a  great  deal  of  our  thought  and  time." 

Harold  Pierson  looked  at  him  wonderingly,  and 
with  the  air  of  a  man  too  polite  to  inquire  as  to  the 
the  meaning  of  his  speech  so  purposely  guarded. 

Mr.  Hetlow  prevented  further  conversation  in  this 
direction  by  saying  to  young  Pierson  that  he  had  re 
ceived  his  note,  and  was  ready  to  look  at  the  proof 
which  he  had  asked  to  submit. 

The  young  man  thereupon  took  from  his  pocket  a 
package,  which  he  laid  on  the  table  before  him,  say- 
ing  : 

"  I  do  not  know  how  you  will  regard  this,  but  it 
seems  to  me  far  more  important  than  anything  I 
have  yet  laid  before  you.  I  think  it  is  well  worthy 
your  consideration  ;  my  counsel  insists  that  it  is  well- 
nigh,  if  not  wholly,  conclusive.  If  the  comparison 
which  I  desire  to  make  is  permitted  me,  and  the 
proof  should  stand  the  test  of  such  comparison,  I 


HAROLD'S  PROOF.  299 

shall  myself  be  disposed  to  believe  that  the  proof  is 
made  and  the  end  is  reached." 

As  he  talked  he  unwrapped  the  package  and  laid 
out  the  papers.  No  remark  was  made  by  anyone 
when  he  concluded.  He  added  in  a  somewhat  disap 
pointed  air  : 

"  Of  course  I  know  it  is  a  great  favor  I  ask,  to  com 
pare  the  letters  of  Edmund  Dugdale  received  by  his 
father,  and  unquestionably  authentic,  with  the  note 
we  have  here  purporting  to  have  been  written  by  him. 
I  quite  understand  that,  occupying  the  position  you  do, 
insisting  that  the  burden  of  proof  rests  upon  our 
shoulders,  nothing  compels  you,  even  from  a  moral 
standpoint,  to  accede  to  my  request.  I  therefore 
want  to  say,  as  I  said  upon  a  previous  occasion,  that 
one  of  the  chief  desires  I  have  is  to  assure  you  of  the 
truth  of  my  claim,  and  that  I  will  be  content  with 
nothing  short  of  a  full  acquiescence  upon  your  part 
that  I  am  indeed  the  son  of  Edmund  Dugdale.  I  ask 
it,  therefore,  more  with  the  idea  that  you  should  be 
satisfied  by  such  comparison  than  that  I  should  grat 
ify  myself  by  making  it." 

Mr.  Hetlow,  rising  from  his  chair,  said  hastily  and 
warmly  : 

"  Of  course  your  request  is  granted.  It  never  en 
tered  into  my  head  to  deny  it.  I  conceive  it  to  be 
very  proper." 

Mr.  Stanton,  however,  interposed  by  saying  : 

"  In  a  strict  legal  proceeding,  Mr.  Hetlow,  one  oc 
cupying  the  position  you  do  would  use  a  document, 
such  as  you  have  in  your  possession,  in  an  attempt 
to  confound  rather  than  to  assist  the  other  side." 

"  But  this  is  not  a  strict  legal  proceeding,"  said 
Mr.  Hetlow  rather  irritably.  "If  Mr.  Pierson  has  a 
letter  written  by  Edmund  Dugdale  that  fact  can  be 
established  as  conclusively  here  as  in  a  court  of  law." 

The  merchant  went  to  a  cabinet  in  the  corner  of 
the  room,  and  taking  from  it  a  bundle  of  papers  came 


300  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

back  to  the  table.  Running  over  the  end  of  it,  he 
drew  out  a  paper  which  he  laid  before  him  and  re 
sumed  his  seat. 

Laying  his  hand  upon  this  paper  he  said  :  "  I  have 
here  a  letter  written  by  Edmund  Dugdale  during 
the  year  of  his  death,  concerning  the  authenticity  of 
which  there  can  be  no  doubt." 

"  Then  we  can  proceed,"  said  Harold  Pierson. 

He  lifted  the  first  letter  at  his  hand.  It  was  the 
one  purporting  to  be  addressed  by  James  Powers  to 
Mrs.  Orton  Pierson. 

"  Quite  evidently,"  he  said,  "  Mr.  Powers  was  not 
an  educated  man.  His  writing  is  somewhat  hard  te 
decipher.  The  letter  tells  its  own  story." 

He  read  : 

n.  y.  Sept  10,  1856. 
"  Mrs.  pierson 

"  madam  : 

"  My  Wife  has  fond  a  Shirt  what 
belongs  to  the  child  you  have  Adopt  i  sind  it  you  how 
is  the  child  gitting  on  i  hope  is  good  and  is  a  komfort 
to  you  he  is  a  quite  child  it  has  a  good  whome  and  i 
hope  its  so  you  will  be  good  to  it  its  father  Edmund 
dugdale  was  a  genleman  and  a  good  man. 
"  Yours  &c., 

"JAMES  POWERS." 

He  laid  it  down,  looking  to  the  others  for  comment. 
None  was  made.  Dick  reached  forward,  took  the 
letter,  inspected  it  closely,  turned  it  over,  and  observed 
the  paper  upon  which  it  was  written.  The  paper  bore 
every  appearance  of  age,  and  the  letter  of  having  been 
penned  by  an  illiterate  man.  He  thought  that  if  the 
letter  was  a  forgery  it  was  a  most  skillful  one. 

He  laid  it  back  on  the  table. 

Harold  Pierson  took  up  another  paper.  It  was  a 
certificate  signed  by  James  Powers  and  his  wife,  set- 


HAROLD'S  PROOF.  301 

ting  forth  that  the  child  taken  by  Mrs.  Orton  Piersou 
on  August  29,  1856,  was  the  child  of  Edmund  Dug- 
dale,  who  was  a  lodger  with  them,  and  who  had  died 
on  July  8,  1856,  in  their  house. 

Dick  examined  this  also,  comparing  its  signature 
with  the  one  of  the  letter.  Even  to  his  practiced  eye 
the  two  seemed  to  be  exactly  the  same.  This  one 
Mr.  Stanton  examined.  Harold  Pierson  this  time  did 
not  wait  for  comments  when  he  had  perused  it,  but 
hurried  on  to  the  next. 

This  was  one  purporting  to  be  a  letter  written  by 
Edmund  Dugdale  to  Mrs.  Tomlinson. 

"  This  letter,"  he  said,"  we  can  give  no  explanation 
of.  It  was  found  among  Mrs.  Orton  Pierson's  papers 
with  the  two  I  have  just  read.  It  is  supposed,  how 
ever,  that  it  was  written  a  day  or  two  before  his  death 
but  never  dispatched.  It  is  briet  and — pathetic." 

"  MRS.  TOMLINSON  : 

"  I  do  not  think  I  will  last  long.  I  am  growing 
weaker  hourly.  I  want  to  see  my  child  once  more 
and  clasp  him  in  my  arms  before  I  die.  Will  you 
not  bring  him  to  me  ? 

"  Yours  thankfully, 

"EDMUND  DUGDALE." 

Dick  thought  he  observed  signs  of  anxiety  and 
nervousness  in  young  Pierson's  manner  while  he  was 
reading  this  letter.  But  the  thought  was  driven  from 
his  mind  by  another  and  that  was,  that  the  letter  fitted 
in  well  with  the  story  Mrs.  Tomlinson  had  told  him. 

Mr.  Hetlow  took  up  the  letter  of  Edmund  Dugdale 
lying  before  him,  an  action  noticed  by  Harold  Pier- 
son. 

"  One  moment,"  he  said.  "  Before  any  comparison 
is  made,  let  me  dispose  cf  the  remaining  paper." 

He  then  read  an  affidavit  made  by  Thomas  Full- 
grave,  setting  forth  in  that  verbose  phraseology  lawyers 


302  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

so  delight  in,  that  he  was  cognizant  of  the  facts  of  the 
adoption  of  the  child  of  Edmund  Dugdale,  and  that  of 
his  own  knowledge  he  knew  that  the  child  delivered, 
by  James  Powers  and  his  wife  to  Orton  Pierson  and 
his  wife  was  the  child  of  Edmund  Dugdale. 

Having  finished  he  returned  all  of  the  papers  to 
his  pocket,  save  the  one  purporting  to  have  been 
written  by  Edmund  Dugdale,  and  passed  around  to 
the  side  of  the  table  where  Mr.  Hetlow  was  sitting, 
and  laid  it  before  Mr.  Hetlcw. 

Dick  and  Mr.  Stanton  rose  and  took  positions 
behind  Mr.  Hetlow,  over  whose  shoulders  they  could 
observe  the  comparison  between  the  two  letters. 

A  glance  was  sufficient  to  determine  the  similarity 
of  the  hand.  The  chance  taken  by  the  conspirators 
in  writing  this  letter  was  determined  in  their  favor. 
They  had  made  no  mistake.  It  would  have  required 
eyes  more  expert  than  were  in  Mr.  Hetlow's  library 
to  have  determined  which  one  was  the  forgery.  By 
one  of  those  singular  chances  that  are  continually 
turning  up  to  confound  the  theory  of  probability,  the 
papei,  upon  which  these  separate  documents  were 
written,  was  so  nearly  alike  that  it  seemed  as  if  they 
had  come  from  the  same  ream. 

Mr.  Stanton  was  dumfounded.  The  proof  seemed 
to  be  complete. 

Dick  could  pick  no  flaw,  and  he  appealed  to  Mr. 
Stanton  to  make  the  objection  he  looked  for  but  could 
not  find.  So  in  fact  did  Mr.  Hetlow.  Finding  that 
Mr.  Stanton  made  no  remark,  Mr.  Hetlow  said  : 

"Your  proof  is  conclusive.  It  would  appear  I  must 
accept  you  in  fact  as  the  heir  to  the  Dugdale  estates." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  lawyer,  more  to  himself  than  to 
the  others,  "  the  establishment  of  these  proofs  would 
settle  the  question." 

Dick,  deeply  disappointed,  acquiesced  in  the  judg 
ment  of  Mr.  Stanton. 

"  Mr.  Pierson,  or  Mr.  Dugdale,  as  we  will  have  to 


HAROLD'S  PROOF.  303 

undoubtedly  call  you  after  this,"  said  the  old  lawyer, 
"  your  proofs  are  strong.  I  confess  recently  I  have 
not  been  of  the  opinion  that  you  were  the  heir. 
Certain  facts,  gathered  chiefly  by  Mr.  Mason  here, 
led  me  to  believe  that  either  you,  yourself,  were  a 
victim,  or  that  you  were  a  swindler.  It  now  appears 
that  I  have  wronged  you  in  my  thoughts.  Indeed  I 
became  convinced,  when  the  assault  was  made  upon 
Mason,  that  in  some  way  it  was  connected  with  your 
claim." 

"Great  God!"  exclaimed  young  Pierson,  leaping 
from  his  chair  in  which  he  had  seated  himself,  his 
manner  and  voice  representing  well  simulated  horror, 
"you  surely  did  not  believe  me  guilty  of  such  an 
act  ? " 

His  manner  made  a  profound  impression. 

"  For  a  time  I  did,"  said  Mr.  Stanton  coolly. 

"  Great  God  !  "  repeated  young  Pierson,  seating  him 
self  again. 

It  seemed  as  if  he  were  horror-stricken  with  the 
idea.  So  deceived  was  Dick  by  his  manner  that  he 
said  : 

"I  am  sure,  Mr.  Pierson,  that  Mr.  Stanton  believes 
so  no  longer." 

Harold  looked  at  him  gratefully.  Turning  to  Mr. 
Stanton,  he  said  : 

"  You  say  certain  facts,  gathered  by  Mr.  Mason,  had 
led  you  to  be  suspicious.  Will  you  not  question  me 
as  to  them  ?  I  will  reply  frankly,  and  as  fully  as  I 
can.  Perhaps  I  may  entirely  satisfy  you." 

"  The  first  is,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  grasping  eagerly 
at  the  opportunity,  "  that  running  parallel  with  our 
search  was  another  one,  which  we  finally  discovered 
to  be  conducted  by  persons  with  whom  you  were  in 
close  association.  When  Mr.  Mason  first  found  Mrs. 
Tomlinson  he  also  found  that  a  man  had  preceded 
him  with  precisely  the  same  inquiry.  When  agents 
were  employed  in  Newark  to  find  trace  ot  James 


304  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Powers,  it  was  learned  that  the  same  man  had  pre 
ceded  them.  When  within  a  week  Mr.  Mason  went 
to  Philadelphia  to  consult  a  certain  Mrs.  Jenkins, 
again  he  found  that  the  same  man  had  preceded 
him  there.  And  this  man  was  one  you  met  daily.'5 

"  Only  recently,"  exclaimed  Harold  Pierson  hastily, 
and.  as  Dick  thought,  with  some  alarm.  "  I  can  ex 
plain  this  to  yOur  satisfaction.  A  man  named  Ran- 
son,  with  whom  until  quite  recently  I  had  no  ac 
quaintance — the  one  whose  communication  to  Mr. 
Mason  found  me  out — had  some  knowledge  that  the 
Dugdale  estate  would  fall  to  the  child  of  Edmund 
Dugdale,  if  he  could  be  found.  It  was  he  who  insti 
tuted  this  search  you  speak  of.  He  employed  a  man 
named  Moore  to  visit  Mrs.  Tomlinson  and  also  to 
search  in  Newark  for  trace  of  Jarnes  Powers.  It  was 
when  he  had  determined  that  I  was  the  child  for 
whom  they  sought  that  he  went  to  Mr.  Mason.  Al 
though  he  assumed  to  Mr.  Mason  to  have  little 
knowledge  of  me,  for  he  is  a  man  of  indirect  methods, 
his  purpose  was  to  induce  Mr.  Mason  to  make  the  ex- 
animation  himself  and  thus  help  him  in  the  search  he 
was  making.  Subsequent  to  all  this  he  presented 
himself  to  me,  and  it  was  after  I  had  been  sent  for  by 
Mr.  Hetlow,  offering  to  assist  me  to  the  proof  of  my 
identity.  But  he  bargained  fcr  a  considerable  sum- 
in  payment  before  he  would  give  me  such  proof. 
Since  that  time  he  has  been  officious,  and  indeed 
pertinacious,  in  attendance  upon  us,  forcing  himself 
upon  Mr.  Orton  Pierson  and  myself— both  he  and 
Moore — both  of  whom  expect  considerable  sums 
upon  the  successful  establishment  of  my  claim. 
And  I  am  bound  to  say  that  his  knowledge  gained 
by  inquiry,  and  as  well  his  recollection,  have  been 
of  the  greatest  value.  And  I  must  further  concede  that 
it  is  very  doubtful  whether  I  would  have  been  identi 
fied  as  the  person  sought  for,  had  it  not  been  for 
his  efforts  " 


HAROLD'S  PROOF.  305 

This  was  plausible  and  apparently  said  in  the  frank 
est  manner.  Mr.  Stanton  was  imposed  upon,  as  was 
shown  by  the  weak  manner  in  which  he  touched  upon 
Dick's  discovery  of  young  Pierson  in.  the  company  of 
Ransom  in  Jackson  Street. 

"  It  was  to  obtain  the  very  affidavit  that  I  read  here 
to-night,  that  I  accompanied  Ransom  to  that  place," 
replied  Harold  promptly. 

"  Then,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  "  Mason  is  quite  cer 
tain  that  he  has  seen  Ransom  more  than  once  in  this 
neighborhood,  in  relation  with  at  least  one  of  Mr. 
Hetlow's  employees." 

Dick  thought  he  saw  an  expression  of  alarm  flit  over 
the  face  of  the  young  man.  It  was  but  for  an  instant 
however,  for  he  replied  calmly  : 

"  Quite  possibly.  As  I  say,  he  is  given  to  indirect 
methods  and  evidently  is  fond  of  mysterious  proceed 
ings.  I  know  that  he  haunted  this  neighborhood  upon 
some  theory  that  you  were  opposed  to  my  claim,  and 
that  he  might  find  something  of  importance  to  us.  I 
cannot  say  I  admire  these  methods  or  justify  them — in 
deed  I  have  more  than  once  put  my  foot  upon  some  of 
them.  Yet  he  has  been  very  valuable  to  us." 

"  Then  there  is  that  attempted  burglary  upon  my 
house,"  suggested  the  lawyer. 

"  I  know  absolutely  nothing  about  it.  Had  Ransom 
been  concerned  in  that,  and  I  do  not  want  you  to  be 
lieve  for  a  moment  that  I  think  so,  I  would  have  been 
the  last  person  he  would  have  let  know.  For  he  knows 
well  I  would  not  have  countenanced  it.  I  can  only 
tell  you  that  Ransom  reported  to  me  that  Mrs.  Jen 
kins  had  come  with  a  box  to  your  house.  He  already 
knew  that  Mrs.  Jenkins  was  the  daughter  of  James 
Powers." 

"  And  the  assault  on  Mason  ?" 

"  I  know  no  more  of  that  than  the  other.  Fot 
Heaven's  sake,  why  should  that  attack  have  been  made 
upon  my  account  ?  "  he  continued.  "  What  was  to 


30(5  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS.  ' 

be  gained  by  it  ?  What  end  would  have  been  served? 
If  I  was,  in  fact,  Edmund  Dugdale's  child,  Mr.  Mason's 
opposition  would  not  have  prevented  the  proof  of  my 
claim.  If  I  was  not,  the  sacrifice  of  his  lite  would 
not  have  supplied  my  want  of  proof." 

It  was  Mr.  Hetlow  now  who  thought  young  Pierson 
was  too  glib  and  too  well  supplied  with  argument, 

"  I  shall  be  prepared  to  be  questioned  on  anything 
touching  Ransom's  acts," continued  Harold  ;  "  he  has 
been  very  busy,  very  active,  and  he  is  deeply  con 
cerned  for  the  money  he  has  been  promised  in  the 
event  of  my  succession  to  the  Dugdale  estates.  He  is 
thoroughly  convinced  that  I  am  the  heir,  and  he 
works  hard  that  there  may  be  no  failure  in  the  proof." 

So  frank  had  he  been  that  there  was  no  effort  made 
by  anyone  to  combat  his  statements. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

DETECTED    AND   CAPTURED. 

WHILE  this  conference  was  going  forward  at  "  The 
Larches,"  Mrs.  Stanton  was  in  a  condition  of  mind 
bordering  on  the  frantic  at  Springhill. 

From  time  to  time  she  walked  to  the  end  of  the 
veranda  from  which  a  view  of  "The  Larches  "  could 
be  had,  to  watch  for  the  return  of  her  husband.  She 
feared  Harold  Pierson  would  confess  his  participa 
tion  in  the  burglary  and,  thus  involving  her,  expose 
her  to  her  husband's  anger.  At  one  time  she  wished 
she  had  accompanied  the  others  sc  that  she  could 
have  escaped  the  suspense  she  was  now  suffering 
from,  while  at  other  times  she  was  glad  she  had  not, 
for  had  the  revelation  been  made  in  her  presence,  she 
felt  she  would  have  been  covered  with  confusion  and 
humiliation  before  the  others. 

In  this  most  uncomfortable  frame  of  mind  she  wan 
dered  about  the  house.  She  went  into  the  library  and, 
taking  the  box  out  of  the  drawer  in  which  she  had 
placed  it,  tried  without  success  to  open  it. 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  her  that  when  that  morn 
ing  she  had  gone  into  the  room  occupied  by  Dick,  to 
see  that  it  had  been  properly  cared  for,  she  had  seen 
&  small  key  lying  upon  the  dressing-case. 

Fired  by  the  thought,  that  it  might  possibly  be  the 
key  tc  the  box,  and  that  if  it  were,  she  could  obtain 
the  information  therefrorr  by  which  to  confound  her 
husband,  were  he  to  come  home  with  the  know 
ledge  of  the  foolish  confidence  she  had  given  to  Harold 
Pierson,  she  hastened,  upstairs.  She  found  the  key 
still  lying  en  the  case,  and  securing  it  hurried  back  to 

3f>? 


£08  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

the  library.  It  fitted  the  lock.  With  trembling  fin 
gers  she  threw  the  box  open.  A  few  papers  were  in 
side.  She  opened  and  read  the  first  one  at  hand.  It 
caused  her  to  exclaim  aloud.  Hurriedly  she  ran  over 
the  others.  As  she  read  her  agitation  increased. 

The  information  she  was  gathering  seemed  to  over 
whelm  her.  Her  breath  came  fast,  and  her  heart  beat 
hard.  For  a  moment  she  thought  she  would  swoon. 
She  clasped  her  head  with  one  hand,  and  tried  to  still 
the  beating  of  her  heart  with  the  other.  What  it 
all  meant  suddenly  burst  upon  her,  and  with  it  the 
recognition  of  the  necessity  for  action. 

Tumbling  the  papers  back  into  the  box  she  clasped 
it  in  her  arms  and  hurried  out  in  the  direction  of  "  The 
Larches,"  without  waiting  for  bonnet  or  shawl. 

Arriving  at  the  entrance  of  the  house  she  entered 
out  of  breath,  too  much  excited  to  return  the  saluta 
tion  of  Lord  Merrimount,  who  was  returning  from  the 
river  by  another  path. 

In  the  hall  she  encountered  a  servant  and  inquired 
for  her  husband  Being  told  that  he  was  in  the 
library  with  Mr.  Hetlow,  she  implored  the  servant  to 
go  to  him  immediately  and  tell  him  that  she  must  see 
him  at  once. 

She  seated  herself  upon  a  hall  chair,  exhausted  by 
her  agitation  and  rapid  run  from  Springhill.  When 
her  husband  came  to  her  he  perceived  her  agita 
tion  and,  alarmed,  inquired  as  to  its  cause  : 

"  Here,"  she  cried,  "  is  the  '  Jenkins*  box." 

"  Heavens  !  where  did  you  find  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  she  gasped  out ;  "  don't  wait  to 
know.  Open  it — look  at  it !  " 

Wondering  at  her  emotion  Mr.  Stanton  took  the 
box  from  her,  and  seating  himself  beside  her,  opening 
it,  leisurely  began  an  examination  of  its  contents. 

His  leisurely  manner  however  quickly  disappeared. 
He  read  the  first  paper  he  took  out  with  increasing 
interest  and  excitement.  As  Mrs.  Stanton  had  done 


DETECTED  AND  CAPTURED.  309 

he  hurriedly  snatched  the  others,  and  with  rapid 
glances  caught  their  sense  and  realized  their  impor 
tance. 

As  he  read  he  ejaculated  unintelligibly,  while  his 
excitement  grew  with  every  moment,  until  he  ex 
claimed  aloud  : 

"  Great  God  !     What  a  revelation  !  " 

He  tossed  the  papers  back  into  the  box,  closed  it 
with  a  loud  noise  and,  thrusting  it  under  his  arm, 
rapidly  strode  into  the  library. 

The  three  were  upon  their  feet. 

Harold  Pierson  was  about  to  depart,  satisfied  that 
he  had  allayed  all  suspicion,  that  all  had  succumbed 
to  the  strength  of  the  proof  he  had  submitted,  and 
that  it  was  now  only  a  question  of  time  when  he 
would  secure  the  estates,  unopposed  by  Mr.  Hetlow. 

As  he  entered,  Mr.  Stanton  cast  upon  him  a  glance 
of  stern  severity. 

"  One  moment,"  he  said.  "  We  have  not  done  with 
you." 

Young  Pierson  saw  the  box  under  his  arm  and  was 
immediately  filled  with  alarm.  The  blood  fled  from 
his  face  as  he  leaped  to  the  conclusion  that  the  box 
was  the  Jenkins  box,  to  obtain  which  the  burglary 
had  been  committed. 

"  You  say,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  "  that  you  are  the  son 
of  Edmund  Dugdale  ?  " 

Harold  made  a  mighty  effort  to  control  himself, 
while  Mr.  Hetlow  and  Dick  looked  with  surprise  upon 
the  excitement  of  the  old  lawyer,  usually  so  self- 
possessed. 

"I  say  that  I  am,"  replied  Harold,  "and  you  know 
I  am,  from  the  proofs  I  have  this  day  submitted." 

"  They  are  false,"  cried  the  lawyer.  "  You  are  a 
swindler.  This  box — the  Jenkins  box — for  which 
you  robbed  my  house,  proves  you  are." 

Moved  by  sudden  fright  and  anger  Harold  threw 
himself  forward,  as  if  he  would  either  strike  the  old 


3io  THE  DUG  DALE  MILLIONS. 

man,  or  wrest  the  box  from  him.  Thinking  that  he 
meant  to  strike  Mr.  Stanton,  sore  and  bruised  as  he 
was,  Dick  stepped  in  between  them  to  prevent  it. 

But  Harold  controlled  himself  in  time. 

"  Are  you  wild  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Hetlow  to  Mr.  Stanton. 

"  No,  I  am  not.  I  have  become  suddenly  possessed 
of  the  proof  as  to  who  is  the  real  Dugdale.  Here  ! 
here  it  is  !  "  tapping  the  box.  "  It  is  not  Harold  Pier- 
son  but " 

He  hesitated  a  moment  as  with  an  impressive  ges 
ture  he  swept  his  arm  up,  and  exclaimed,  pointing  to 
him  : 

•'  It  is  Richard  Mason  !  There  !  He  h  the  true 
heir  !  " 

Dick,  utterly  overwhelmed,  dropped  into  the  chair 
behind  him,  as  if  he  were  shot. 

Mr.  Hetlow,  amazed,  thought  the  lawyer  had  been 
suddenly  bereft  of  his  senses.  He  stared  at  him  al 
most  stupidly. 

In  the  meantime,  attracted  by  the  confusion,  Bessie 
and  Wallis  who,  in  the  hall,  had  vainly  endeavored  to 
obtain  from  Mrs.  Stanton  its  meaning,  entered  the 
library  in  time  to  hear  Mr.  Stanton's  announcement 
and  Mr.  Hetlow's  contemptuous  reply  of  : 

"  Pshaw  !    man  !  " 

"  Do  you  not  believe  it  ? "  asked  the  old  lawyer 
energetically,  throwing  the  box  on  the  large  table  in 
such  a  manner  that  it  slid  over  its  smooth  surface  di 
rectly  to  the  hand  of  Mr.  Hetlow.  "Then  examine 
the  contents  of  that  box." 

Mr.  Hetlow  opened  the  box,  and  looking  at  the 
papers,  became  convinced  as  quickly  as  the  lawyer 
had  been. 

During  this  exchange  Harold  Pierson  had  been  anx 
iously  looking  from  one  to  the  other.  He  did  not 
know  what  those  contents  were,  nor  how  strong  the 
proof  of  the  announcement  Mr.  Stanton  had  made 


DETECTED  AND  CAPTURED.  311 

was,  nor  whether  he  could  combat  it,  nor  indeed 
whether  the  day  was  lost  to  him  or  only  endangered. 

He  made  a  gallant  effort. 

"  Sir  !  "  he  said  to  the  old  lawyer,  "  you  are  hasty 
with  your  epithets.  In  a  court  of  law  you  will  be 
given  an  opportunity  to  sustain  them." 

"  I  will  sustain  them,"  excitedly  exclaimed  the  law 
yer.  "  The  proof  in  that  box  is  conclusive." 

All  of  this  time  Harold  Pierson  had  been  standing 
immediately  in  front  of  the  fire  blazing  openly  upon 
the  hearth. 

When  Mr.  Stanton  made  this  declaration,  he  tossed 
the  papers  which  he  had  brought  with  him  as  proofs, 
deftly,  without  being  observed,  into  the  fire.  He  had 
hardly  done  so  when  Lord  Mernmount  entered  the 
room.  Turning  to  see  who  it  was,  Harold  started 
back  so  violently  in  his  surprise  that  he  nearly  fell. 

"  Eric  Lacey  !  "  he  exclaimed  aghast. 

"  Great  God  !     Allan  Mark  Everard  !  " 

"  Who  ? "  crisd  rather  than  asked  Mr.  Stanton. 
"  That  man  claims  to  be  young  Dugdale,  and  to  be 
named  Harold  Pierson." 

"  He  !  "  cried  Merrimount.  "  He  ?  Nonsense  !  He 
is  Allan  Mark  Everard.  He  was  my  fag  at  Eton.  I 
have  known  him  since  he  was  a  lad,  and  his  family  as 
well." 

Mr.  Hetlow  and  Dick  had  risen  from  their  seats. 
They  were  regarding  the  two  young  men  with  interest 
the  most  intense. 

Mrs.  Stanton  sat  in  a  chair  trembling  with  excite 
ment,  while  Bessie  and  Wallis,  hardly  grasping  the 
situation,  were  supporting  each  other. 

"  That  man,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  pointing  to  Harold, 
now  standing  with  bended  head,  shamestricken  be 
fore  his  old  schoolmate,  all  his  assurance  gone,  know 
ing  full  well  that  his  game  was  lost,  "  that  man  is  the 
one  who  has  claimed  to  be  Harold  Pierson,  adopted 


3*  ^  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

by  Orton  Pierson  as  the  child  of  Edmund  Dugdale, 
and  pretends  that  he  was  born  in  New  York  in  1856. 
He  is  the  claimant  to  the  Dugclale  estate." 

Merrimount  cast  upon  the  poor  wretch  a  look  of 
bitter  contempt. 

"  That  man,"  he  said  slowly,  "  is  Allan  Mark  Ever- 
ard  of  the  Everards  of  Lancashire,  the  banking  family. 
He  comes  from  the  same  county  as  my  family. 
We  were  at  Eton  together,  where  he  was  my  fag.  He 
was  at  Cambridge  too,  when  I  was  there.  I  have 
known  him  since  he  was  a  little  lad.  He  went  wrong 
early.  He  was  put  in  the  Paris  branch  of  his  family's 
bank  and  was  caught  in  theft  and  forgery.  French 
justice  dealt  with  him  and  he  was  put  in  prison  there, 
ifrom  which,  as  I  heard  some  time  ago,  he  fled.  He  is 
an  escaped  convict,  a  disgrace  to  his  name  and  aban 
doned  by  his  family  !  " 

"  Are  you  satisfied  at  last  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Stanton  of 
Mr.  Hetlow. 

Overwhelmed  by  the  proof  he  could  no  longer  com 
bat  Mr.  Hetlow  meekly  replied  that  he  was. 

"  The  next  thing  to  do  is  to  put  this  scamp,  who  has 
hesitated  at  neither  burglary,  nor  murder,  to  secure 
his  ends,  into  the  hands  of  the  law,"  said  Mr.  Stanton. 
"  Someone  send  a  servant  to  the  village  for  an  officer." 

Harold  Pierson  was  aroused  by  this  command.  He 
lifted  his  head  and  looked  boldly  at  Mr.  Stanton,  who 
had  thus  taken  direction  of  affairs. 

"  It  is  all  up,"  he  said.  "  The  game  is  lost.  It  was 
worth  playing  for.  The  stakes  were  large.  I  confess. 
Everything  is  true  except  the  attempt  at  murder.  I 
did  not  commit  the  burglary,  but  it  was  done  at  my  di 
rection.  I  knew  of  the  box  brought  by  Mrs.  Jenkins." 
He  looked  at  Mrs.  Stanton  trembling  in  her  seat,  mo 
mentarily  expecting  exposure,  and  laughed  scornfully. 
"  I  learned  it  from  Mrs.  Stanton,  who  was  silly  enough 
to  tell  me  of  it.  But  the  attempt  on  Mason  I  am  not 
responsible  for.  Certain  men  stationed  here  as  spies  by 


DETECTED  AND  CAPTURED.  3J3 

Ransom  did  make  the  attack  without  our  knowledge. 
How  much  Ransom  knew  of  it  or  was  a  party  to  I 
can't  tell.  But  I  knew  nothing  of  it  until  yesterday 
morning.  You  may  believe  this  or  not,  as  you  see  fit; 
but  it  is  true.  Now,  do  with  me  as  you  will.  I  have 
played  my  part,  and  if  it  were  not  for  an  accident,  and 
the  appearance  of  Eric  Lacey,  I  would  have  won.  So 
you've  come  into  a  title,  old  man  ?  You  are  the  Lord 
Merrimount,  eh  ?  I  had  forgotten  it  was  in  the  family." 

Merrimount  went  to  him  and,  standing  before  him, 
said  earnestly  : 

"Do  you  say  on  your  honor — pshaw  !  You  have 
none — but  are  you  telling  me  the  truth  when  you  say 
you  knew  nothing  of  this  attempt  on  Mason's 
life?" 

"  I  tell  you  the  exact  truth,  Lacey." 

"  How  am  I  to  believe  you  ? " 

"  Because  you  never  knew  me  to  lie  to  you  in  the 
eld  fag  days." 

"  That  is  true.     You  never  did." 

The  young  nobleman  strode  across  the  room,  threw 
up  the  sash  of  the  window  looking  upon  the  lawn,  and 
pushed  open  the  outer  blind. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  be,  and  will  not  be,  responsible 
for  the  arrest  and  imprisonment  of  the  old  school 
fellow  whom  I  have  exposed." 

He  looked  sternly  at  Harold  Pierson. 

"  In  the  belief  that  you  have  told  me  the  truth,  and 
that  you  had  no  part  in  the  cowardly  attack  on  Mr. 
Mason,  I  tell  you  to  fly." 

He  pointed  to  the  open  window.  Looking  at  the 
others  in  the  room,  he  said  : 

"  We'll  give  the  poor  beggar  a  chance  for  his  liberty. 
He'll  be  hunted  down  quickly  enough,  God  knows  !  " 

Then  turning  to  Harold  Pierson  again,  he  said,  point 
ing  at  the  window  : 

"  Go  !  " 

Harold  cast  a  quick  glance  at  Mr.  Stanton,  then  at 


314  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Mr.  Hetlow,  and  again  at  Merrimount  still  pointing  at 
the  open  window. 

He  rushed  rapidly  to  it,  stopped  as  he  was  about  to 
plunge  through  it,  and  said  : 

"  Thank  you  for  the  chance,  old  man.  You  are  the 
same  Eric  of  the  old  days — never  a  sneak,  and  with 
always  a  helping  hand  for  the  poor  devil  in  the 
race." 

He  leaped  lightly  through  the  window,  ran  hastily 
across  the  lawn,  and  disappeared  into  the  shrub 
bery. 

"  That  was  very  wrong,  my  lord,"  said  Mr.  Stanton 
sternly. 

"I  think  not,"  replied  Merrimount  quietly.  "You 
could  not  have  put  him  under  arrest  but  for  my  ex 
posure  of  him,  and  I  do  not  want  the  weight  upon 
me  of  having  been  responsible  for  the  imprisonment 
of  a  poor  devil  who  had  been  my  schoolmate,  and 
with  whom  I  had  slept  and  ate  and  sported  and 
studied." 

Wallis  crossed  the  room  shyly,  her  eyes  shining  and 
wet  with  tears.  She  placed  her  hand  in  that  of 
Merrimount  and  pressed  it,  but  did  not  speak. 

Merrimount  having  it,  would  not  let  it  go. 

Mr.  Stanton  strode  angrily  into  the  hall,  where  he 
bade  a  servant  to  tell  the  coachman  to  saddle  a  horse 
and  come  at  once  to  the  house.  Then  he  hastily 
wrote  a  telegram  to  Captain  Lawton,  asking  him  to 
arrest  Orton  Pierson,  Dennis  Moore,  Oliver  Ransom, 
and  Harold  Pierson,  saying  that  they  had  been  de 
tected  in  fraud,  forgery,  and  conspiracy. 

He  called  Dick  to  him  and  asked  him  to  sign  the 
dispatch,  who  demurred  as  to  Harold  Pierson  because 
of  Merrimount,  but  was  finally  persuaded  to  do  so 
by  the  old  lawyer,  who  insisted  that  he  was  only  doing 
his  duty. 

When  they  returned  to  the  library  they  found  Mr. 
Hetlow  examining  the  proofs  contained  in  the  tin 


DETECTED  AND  CAPTURED.  3*5 

box,  the  others  watching  him  eagerly.  As  Dick 
entered,  Mr.  Hetlow  exclaimed  : 

"  Mason,  these  proofs  are  conclusive.  Here  is  the 
receipt  given  by  Thomas  Mason,  whose  hand  I  know 
as  well  as  my  own,  for  the  child  of  Edmund  Dugdale, 
clearly  setting  forth  the  story  as  to  how  he  came  to 
adopt  him,  and  how  it  came  about  that  the  child  was 
in  the  hands  of  James  Powers.  There  is  no  question 
that  the  child  of  Edmund  Dugdale  was  adopted  by 
Thomas  Mason,  the  one  who  reared  and  educated 
you.  I  have  known  you  from  your  childhood,  and  I 
know  that  you  are  the  one  who  is  the  adopted  child 
of  Thomas  Mason.  You  are  indeed  the  heir  to  the 
Dugdale  estates." 

All  of  these  things  had  occurred  with  such  rapidity 
that  Dick  could  hardly  comprehend  that  it  was  upon 
him  that  this  great  fortune  had  descended.  He 
said : 

"  I  can  hardly  comprehend  it,  sir.  I  know  I  was 
adopted  by  Thomas  Mason,  but  how  could  I  have 
been  the  son  of  Edmund  Dugdale,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  nephew  of  Thomas  Mason,  who  was  not  of 
kin  of  the  Dugdales  by  marriage  or  otherwise." 

"Heavens!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Stanton,  "but  that  is 
so." 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Hetlow.  "  I  can  explain  that. 
Tom  Mason  grew  to  be  very  fond  of  you,  and  when 
he  believed  it  was  his  duty  to  tell  you  that  you  were 
his  adopted  son  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  have 
you  think  you  were  not  of  his  own  blood.  So  he  in 
vented  the  fiction  that  you  were  a  nephew.  I  knew 
it  at  the  time.  I  have  respected  his  wish  in  this 
matter  as  Mrs.  Mason  did  in  her  life.  I  never  did 
know,  however,  the  circumstances  surrounding  your 
adoption." 

Dick  was  silent  a  long  time,  a  multitude  of  thoughts 
rushing  over  his  brain.  The  future  was  so  vast  he 
could  not  comprehend  it.  One  thought,  however, 


316  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

burned  brightly  above  all  the  rest,  standing  out  most 
vividly.  His  next  speech  was  a  commonplace: 

"  Then,  when  I  set  out  upon  that  search  for  the 
child  of  Edmund  Dugdale,  I  was  in  fact  looking  for 
myself." 

He  saw  Bessie's  eyes  upon  him  beaming  with  love. 
He  went  to  her  and,  bowing  before  her,  said  : 

"Though  it  has  been  determined  that  young 
Pierson  is  young  Dugdale,  yet  a  young  Dugdale 
has  been  found.  It  is  I  who  deprive  you  of  these 
millions.  Well,  I  restore  them  to  you.  At  your  feet 
I  lay  them  all.  They  are  yours — everything.  But 
there  is  an  incumbrance  upon  them — it  is  myself. 
You  cannot  take  the  one  without  the  other.  Do  you 
accept  them  ?" 

He  had  no  need  to  ask.  The  love  and  consent  were 
in  her  eyes.  He  took  her  hand,  gently  drawing  her  to 
him — that  hand  cut  and  torn  through  her  efforts  to 
save  his  life,  and  led  her  to  her  father.  "  Sir,"  he  said, 
"  I  present  you  the  Dugdale  heiress.  I  have  bestowed 
all  the  wealth  upon  her — with  an  incumbrance  to  be 
sure — myself.  Do  you  consent  that  she  accept 
them  ? " 

"  The  wind  sets  from  a  different  quarter  than  last 
night,  neighbor  Hetlow,"  laughed  Mr.  Stanton. 

Mr.  Hetlow,  secretly  pleased  in  his  heart,  ashamed 
now  of  his  previous  opposition,  and  greatly  annoyed 
by  Mr.  Stanton's  remark,  did  not  withhold  his  consent. 

He  had  hardly  given  it  when  Dick  was  addressed 
by  Lord  Merrimount,  who  said  : 

"  Mason,  I  came  here  the  bearer  of  a  proposition 
from  my  father  to  Mr.  Hetlow,  but  as  events  have 
turned,  it  is  to  you  I  must  make  it." 

"  I  know  what  it  is,"  cried  Dick,  for  Wallis  had 
informed  him  only  that  morning.  "  The  offer  is  ac 
cepted,"  extending  his  hand  to  the  young  English 
man.  "  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  and  I  will  be  only 
too  glad  to  have  you  as  a  partner  in  the  largest  wool 
house  in  the  world." 


DETECTED  AND  CAPTURED.  317 

He  looked  at  the  young  nobleman  beamingly  and  added, 
for  he  had  a  glimmer  as  to  the  truth,  with  a  strong  press 
ure  of  his  hand : 

"And  I  hope  your  other  desires  will  be  as  successful  as 
this  has  been." 

The  young  nobleman  returned  the  pressure  of  his  hand 
with  a  grateful  smile,  and  then  crossed  to  the  window, 
where  Wallis  was  standing,  apparently  absorbed  in  some 
thing  upon  the  lawn. 

"Wallis,"  he  said,  "did  you  hear?  I  am  a  merchant 
now.  I  am  in  trade.  The  title  is  only  a  little  bit  of  an  ob 
jection.  I  have  come  for  my  answer." 

Wallis  flirted  her  shoulders,  and  would  neither  turn  nor 
reply. 

"My  answer,  please !  I  must  have  it.  Your  duties  as 
the  guardian  angel  of  one  love-affair  have  come  to  an  end. 
Be  the  guardian  angel  of  mine." 

She  whirled  about;  and  extending  her  hand,  blushes  on 
her  cheeks,  a  merry  twinkle  in  her  eyes,  exclaimed  in  a 
tone  of  irritation  utterly  at  variance  with  the  expression 
of  her  face : 

"I  suppose  I  must,  then.  I  never  saw  such  a  persistent 
man.  I  can  get  rid  of  you  no  other  way.  There !  And 
much  joy  may  I  be  to  you." 

Merrimount  led  her  to  her  uncle. 

"I  am  a  producer  now,  Mr.  Stanton.     May  I  have  her?" , 

"This  baggage?"  asked  the  old  lawyer,  much  amused, 
and  looking  kindly  upon  them.  "Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  I 
must  give  her  up." 

"The  dearest,  the  most  pr,ecious  and  valuable  baggage  in 
the  world,"  said  Lord  Merrimount  amidst  much  laughter. 
"My  American  valise  full  of  all  the  comforts." 

"What?"  cried  Mrs.  Stanton,  who  had  been  sitting  quiet 
ly  by,  devoutly  thankful  she  had  not  been  exposed,  "Wallis, 
Lady  Merrimount?" 

"Oh,  no;  I  am  Wallis  yet,"  cried  that  young  lady,  with 
her  cheeks  aflame,  and  her  eyes  dancing  as  she  looked  up 
into  Merrimount's  face,  with  a  glance  that,  despite  her 
tongue,  told  him  his  heart's  desire  was  accomplished. 

"And  ever  will  be,"  cried  Dick.  "Wallis  the  true  friend 
and  the  loyal  heart." 

''I  suppose,  auntie,"  said  Wallis,  in  an  endeavor  to  cover 
her  confusion,  "you  will  not  forgive  me  for  throwing  my 
self  away,  but  then  I  couldn't  help  it.  And  oh,  dear,  I  al 
ways  promised  myself  a  rich  husband  !" 

The  servant  announced  dinner  at  this  point,  and  Mr. 


318  THE  DUGDALE  MILLIONS. 

Hetlow  insisted  that  all  should  remain  and  celebrate  the 
engagements  at  his  table. 

The  interview  he  was  to  have  with  Dick  after  the  confer 
ence  with  Harold  Pierson  was  forgotten  in  the  superior 
interests. 

Dick  accompanied  Lord  Merrimount  to  England  a  few 
weeks  later,  to  take  possession  of  his  estates.  After  arrang 
ing  for  Lord  Merrimount's  admission  as  a  partner  in  the 
business  he  returned. 

In  June  of  the  following  year  Lord  Merrimount  crossed 
to  America,  and  he  and  Wallis  were  married,  at  the  same 
time  that  Dick  and  Bessie  were,  at  "The  Larches."  They 
went  to  England  immediately  thereafter,  where  the  inter 
ests  of  the  newly  made  husbands  lay. 

Wallis,  as  her  husband  had  predicted,  was  accepted  by 
his  family,  not  alone  because  she  was  Merrimount's  wife, 
but  for  her  own  true  self.  Her  bright,  independent  person 
ality  made  her  a  petted  favorite,  and  in  her  husband's 
circle  she  was  soon  known  as  "the  terrible  Radical  who 
disdained  rank  and  desired  wealth." 

Bessie  is  known  to  London  as  "the  beautiful  American," 
a  title  of  which  Dick  is  very  proud. 

Captain  Lawton  captured  all  the  conspirators  except 
Harold  Pierson,  on  the  day  he  received  the  dispatch  sent 
by  Mr.  Stanton.  In  the  following  July,  in  Chicago,  Harold 
Pierson  was  found,  but  when  the  officer  took  him  in  charge, 
before  he  could  be  prevented,  he  shot  himself  through  the 
heart,  preferring  death  to  imprisonment. 

Orton  Pierson  and  Moore  were  acquitted  for  want  of 
sufficient  evidence  when  placed  on  trial  in  the  fall,  but 
Ransom,  perhaps  as  much  for  other  crimes  as  for  his 
participation  in  the  conspiracy,  was  sentenced  for  a  term 
of  ten  years  in  the  State's  prison. 

And  thus  ended  the  fraudulent  effort  to  seize  "The 
Dugdale  Millions." 

THE  END. 


THE  STORY  OF  A  FIGHT  FOR  A  THRONE 

D'Artagnan,  the 
King  Maker  .  .  . 

By  ALEXANDRE  DUMAS. 


Written  originally  by  Dumas  as  a  play,  and  now  for  the 
first  time  novelized  and  translated  into  English. 

The  Philadelphia  Enquirer  says  : 

"A  pretty  love  story  in  which  the  debonair 
cavalier  falls  victim  to  Cupid's  wiles  is  one 
of  the  interesting  threads  running  through 
the  book." 

The  Chicago  Record-Herald  says  : 

"It  is  singular  that  this  bit  of  romance  has 
been  suffered  to  remain  hidden  away  for  so 
long  a  time.  D'Artagnan's  manner  of 
winning  the  hermit  kingdom  contains 
enough  thrills  to  repay  a  careful  reading. 
The  story  oozes  adventure  at  every  chapter." 

The  Brooklyn  Eagle  says  : 

"It  is  a  strong  tale  brimful  of  incident 
from  the  moment  when  Cardinal  Richelieu 
dispatches  the  redoubtable  D'Artagnan  on  his 
king-making  mission  to  Portugal."  .  .  . 

i2mo.,  Illustrated.  Price,  $1.00. 


STREET  AND  SMITH,  New  York  and  London 


THE  STORY  OF  A  HOPELESS  LOVE. 

Tons   of   Treasure 

By  WILLIAM  HENRY  BISHOP. 

Author  0/~"DETMOi,B." 


When  two  women  love  one  man  there  is 
usually  trouble  brewing.  Nor  is  the  story 
which  Mr.  Bishop  has  to  tell  an  exception. 
His  hero  is  a  manly  New  Yorker,  who  is 
fired  with  a  zeal  to  "make  good"  a  defalca 
tion  accredited  to  his  dead  father  .... 

In  quest  of  gold  he  visits  Mexico  and 
there  meets  a  dreamy-eyed  maid  who 
straightway  gives  him  first  place  in  her 
heart.  But  an  American  girl  has  already 
won  his  love.  It  is  a  pathetic  situation  and 
if  one  true  woman's  heart  breaks  before  the 
man's  mission  is  ended  who  is  to  blame? 

There  are  many  touching  incidents  in  the 
book,  but  none  more  full  of  pathos  than 
when  the  woman  who  loves  bares  her  soul 
to  the  woman  who  is  loved  ...... 

I2mo.,  Cloth.  Price,  $1.00. 


STREET  AND  SMITH,  New  York  and  London 


A  BOOK  FULL  OF  "HUMAN"  INTEREST. 

QUEER    PEOPLE 

By  WILLIAM  HENRY  BISHOP. 

Author  of  "DETMOLD." 


Not  one  story,  but  a  number  of  charming 
storyettes,  terse,  snappy  and  absorbingly 
interesting 

There  is  a  delightful  pen  sketch  of  a 
woman  of  small  means  who  aspires  to  a  con 
nection  with  the  smart  set.  Her  attempts 
to  disguise  the  true  state  of  affairs  from  her 
out-of-town  friends  are  laughable  ;  but  the 
fun  becomes  tinged  with  pathos  when  she 
borrows  a  furnished  mansion  for  an  evening, 
and  a  rich  relative,  invited  to  dine  with 
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EERIE   TALES    OF   "CHINATOWN." 

Bits   of  .... 
Broken    China 

By  WILLIAM  E.  S.  FALES 

A  collection  of  captivating  novelettes  deal 
ing  with  life  in  New  York's  "Chinatown." 

The  struggles  and  ambitions  of  the  China 
man  in  America,  his  loves  and  jealousies, 
his  hopes  and  fears,  his  sorrows,  his  joys, 
these  are  the  materials  on  which  Mr.  Fales 
has  built  his  book 

It  is  a  new  field,  and  all  the  more  inter 
esting  on  that  account.  The  author  has 
made  a  life  study  of  his  subject ;  and  no  one 
is  better  qualified  than  he  to  present  a  picture 
of  this  romantic  corner  of  New  York  where 
lives  the  exiled  Chinaman  ...;.. 

"Bits  of  Broken  China"  is  undoubtedly 
one  of  the  most  delightful  volumes  for  lighter 
reading  published  this  season 

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A   BOOK   OF    HEARTY   LAUGHTER. 

Things  Generally 

By  MAX  ADELER. 


Here  is  a  volume  which  is  simply  bubbling 
over  with  dry  wit  and  good-natured  humor, 
told  as  only  this  Prince  of  American 
Humorists  can  tell  it.  Here  are  tales  of 
country  newspaper  life,  political  life,  trials 
of  would-be  inventors,  hardships  of  a  book- 
agent,  domestic  fits  and  misfits,  perils  of  a 
ship- wrecked  man,  and  a  hundred  others, 
warranted  to  make  even  the  most  sedate 
laugh.  Full  of  illustrations  just  as  funny  as 
the  text. 

i8mo.  Cloth.  Price,  7$  cents. 


STREET  AND  SMITH,  New  York  and  London 


"LAUGH  OFT,  AND  DEFY  THE  DOCTOR." 

Toothsome    Tales 
Told  in  Slang 

By  BILLY  BURGUNDY. 


A  book  of  fascinating  stories  about  fasci 
nating  folks . 

Pretty  women  before  and  behind  the  foot 
lights,  artists  and  their  models,  literary 
men  of  Bohemian  tendencies,  these  are 
the  people  whom  Billy  Burgundy  has  se 
lected  for  characterization .  True,  they  speak 
their  lines  in  slang,  but  it  is  the  slang  of  the 
educated,  and  is  always  artistic  while  delight 
fully  amusing 

Pronounced  by  press  and  public  one  of  the 
funniest  books  ever  published 

The  illustrations  are  by  Outcault,  Swin- 
nerton,  Marriner,  Rigby,  Pal,  McAuley, 
I/emon,  Cobb  and  Bryans  .,,..,, 

Copiously  Illustrated.     Price,  75  cents. 


STREET  AND  SMITH,  New  York  and  London 


THE    GAME    OF    THE    HOUR. 

ABC  OF  BRIDGE 

By  ELEANOR  A.  TENNANT. 


From  the  Brooklyn  Eagle: 

"Bridge  is  not  yet  so  well  known  as  whist, 
but  au  hour's  study  of  this  clever  little  book 
ought  to  be  enough  to  enable  anyone  to  play 
with  moderate  success.  It  is  written  mainly 
for  the  instruction  of  amateurs,  but,  in  addi 
tion,  the  author,  who  is  herself  an  expert, 
has  given  numerous  hints  that  will  be  valu 
able  to  the  most  advanced  player. "... 

From  the  Dramatic  Mirror : 

"The  game  is  explained  in  simple  fashion 
— which  is  indeed  an  achievement,  consider 
ing  its  complications." 

From  the  St.  Louis  Globe-Democrat : 

"The  little  volume  is  just  what  it  pretends 
to  be — an  elementary  treatise  on  the  subject, 
and  is  not  rendered  top-heavy,  by  overload 
ing  of  extraneous  matter.  It  will  take  one 
about  an  hour  to  read  it,  and  he  will  then 
know  how  the  game  is  played."  .... 

In  cloth.     Gold  top.      Illustrated  with  diagrams. 
Price,  7^  Cents, 


vSTREBT  AND  SMITH,  New  York  and  London 


THE  MOST  POPULAR  OF  GAMES. 

PING    PONG 

AND 

HOW  TO  PLAY  IT 

By  M.  G.  RITCHIE,  of  the  International  Games  Club, 

and  ARNOLD  PARKER,  Winner  of  the  Queen's 

Hall   Ping  Pong  Tournament. 

Edited  for  American  Players 
by  WALTER  H.  BRONSON, 
Ping  Pong  Expert 


This  is  an  entirely  new  work  on  this 
popular  game,  brought  down  to  date,  and 
containing  many  valuable  suggestions  on 
new  strokes  and  new  positions.  It  is  illus 
trated  with  many  diagrams  and  is  adapted 
for  the  expert  as  well  as  the  beginner.  A 
book  every  American  player  of  this  game 
should  possess 

i8mo.,  Silk  Cloth.          Price,  50  cents. 


STREET  AND  SMITH,  New  York  and  London 


